Have you heard the joke about the telemarketer that asked to speak to the "Head of the household"? The pet parent said, "Yes! He is right here" and passed the phone to the dog!
Following are five gigglefied pet stories to confirm who rules the roost:
Henry is smarter than his human, who wishes to remain anonymous. “I’ve bowed down to my dog for so long that he now considers it his right of service,” confessed Mr. X.
When Henry jumps onto the couch, pillows fall to the floor. When he jumps off and then wants back up, he stands in front of the couch and insistently barks or wines. He demands that Mr. X immediately return to the room, and not just put the pillows back but FLUFF them! Mind you, a quick tap on a pillow is not enough, it has to be to the dog’s paw-fection. Apparently, Henry is allergic to wrinkles! He refuses to jump up if the pillows or his quilt are a tiny bit rumpled.
Everything has to be smoothed to a keen eye inspection.
“He acts like he’s doing me a favor or it’s an emergency,” said a well trained Mr. X. “If I leave the pillows on the floor, ignore his barking or don’t straighten his quilt, he makes such a fuss that it is easier to just drop everything and go and fix them! I have actually climbed out of several relaxing baths when his whining starts. I fix everything to his satisfaction, before he deems it paw-fect and jumps up. Only then can I return to bathe in peace.”
When Prince Henry wants a snack he sticks his head in his food dish and just stays there. He poses like an immobilized bird dog focusing on a bird. When you walk by he remains unmoving, cemented as it were, waiting for snack action.
“It was cute in the beginning, so I would give him a few treats,” says his royal servant Mr. X. “He is a fast learner and his ruse worked so well, that he’d lie next to his dish and anyone walking by paw-voked him to plop his face in his empty bowl. You’d think I starved the dog, but I cook more for him than I do myself!”
Brenda in Kentucky adds to our pet humor. “Regarding the recent “Aby the TABY-ssinian” article about newly adopted pets emotionally trying to fit into our homes. If they become frightened, do not laugh at them. They know you are mocking them; and being mammals, it hurts their feelings.’ Well, you are right! Here is what happened to me when I was growing up!
I was watching our big tom cat, Archie, dig a potty hole and squat over it. For some reason, I thought it was funny. I laughed and pointed at him. He was insulted. He finished his business, then at full tilt, ran at me. He chased me all over the yard. I could not outrun him. Archie gave me what for, but did not break skin. He did not want to hurt me, although he easily could. He was punishing me for my mean transgression. After my admonishment, he felt that I’d learned my
lesson because he continued snuggling in bed with me. I NEVER laughed at him or any other animal again.”
Here is my own purrs-onal experience. “When I was ten, my mother broke her arm and my ‘old fashion’ father was suddenly out of his element. He could not fight his way out of a wet kitchen grocery bag and here he was ‘forced’ to be domestic. I will never forget him complaining when my mother cooked a roast beef meal. You can’t cut meat with one hand, so he was asked to cut my brother, sister, mother’s and my meat. But when Mum said, ‘You have to cut the cat’s beef’ he looked bewildered and
complained, ‘Why can’t the cat cut his own with those sharp teeth?’”
When Mary’s hubby angrily declared, “These are our last cats!” Mary, a wise woman, responded, “You may be my last husband, but these are not my last cats!” Once a pet lover always a pet lover!
