Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

Our old dog slept in front of the woodstove. Well, actually she slept nearly under the woodstove. She was a Australian/German Shepard mix with long hair and it felt like her fur was about to spontaneously combust but she wouldn't move.

Sometimes she would sleep in our room but that was only if it thundered or if one of us were sick. Then she'd sleep at the foot of the bed. She was convinced that it was her job to sleep on your feet, or your arm, or your entire body if you would let her. She was a big people dog.

Along came Missy Jo, a few months after we had to put down Aussie.

She rope-a-doped us from the very beginning. She was mellow & calm and slept curled in a tight ball next to Kevin the first few days we had her. Then it was as if she had an epiphany: "Hey! they're going to KEEP me. I can stop trying so hard."

Holy Mother of God, she turned into the Tasmanian Devil. Suddenly, it was ON. No coming when she's called, chasing after everything, literally tearing around the house. We were exhausted.

My family was here a few months later to celebrate my birthday. Kevin was explaining to my mom that we were considering giving Missy back because we just couldn't get a handle on her.

I'm telling you, it's as if Missy heard & understood. From that point forward, she was a good dog. "Oh, you meant lay down? How about here? This is good?" "Sit? Sure! I'd love to!"

We also learned to speak her language. If you don't speak with conviction, she will tell you to Piss Off, You're Not the Boss of Me. We also learned that treats were her currency.

Missy doesn't want to sleep with us. She doesn't even seem to like to share the house with us. If I vacuumed the office where her bed is, she is so annoyed. She looks at me and sighs as if to say "I just had that the way I like it. Stay Out of My Room."