This weekend, we learned lesson at our house about just how determined and stubborn Flattery can be. It started when Mr. Taleteller got up early with the dogs and let them outside. Normally, he gets up early with them, then goes back to sleep on the couch for an hour or so. He and Flattery have a little routine where she curls up by his legs on the couch and they share his blanket while he catches more zzz’s.
This past Saturday morning, however, Bunny got to the couch first. My husband quickly grabbed his blanket and dove for the last spot left. Flattery was not amused. She stood staring at him as he laid on the couch, her eyeballs practically touching his eyeballs. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, but she didn’t believe it for a second. She tried headbutting him and he covered his head with the blanket, trying not to laugh.
Two hours later, I woke up and came out to the living room to find Flattery laying like a sphinx statue beside the couch, staring intently at Bunny and Mr. Taleteller. If I didn’t already know her all too well, I’d swear she was a statue. There was nary an ear twitch when I said her name as I came in and sat down. My husband cracked an eye open and peered at me from beneath his cow spotted blanket. I asked what was going an, and that was when he informed me what had transpired.
He had even tried going into the kitchen and rattling the cookie jar, but Flattery was the only one lining up for a treat. Bunny was playing the same game Mr. Taleteller was, an honest to Pete smile across her sleeping face. She wasn’t getting up for a Milkbone, or anybody. He’d gone back to the couch and simply done what he had to do.
After hearing her tale of woe, I felt sorry for her. I moved my things over by Mr. Taleteller’s recliner so Flattery could snuggle in the chair with me. She gave it a half-hearted effort, but it quickly became clear that snuggling in the chair was not enough. Flattery wanted the couch, and she made that point by marching back over to the couch and glaring meaningfully at my husband. When his bladder reached maximum capacity, he finally caved and got up to use the bathroom. He wasn’t even completely off the couch before Flattery jumped up and laid down with a sigh that was half contentment and half “it’s about time.”
One thing I love about Flattery is that you always know what she wants or thinks. There is no subterfuge where she’s involved. She doesn’t beat around the bush or make you guess, she gets right to the point. Another thing I love about her is that she knows what she wants, and she will not settle for anything less. Truth be told, if I were more like her, I could probably get more of what I want, too. I love her spirit when I’m not the one clashing wills with her, and she’s a dog that you just have to laugh at sometimes. The Greyhound struggle is real, but they usually get what they’re fighting for in the end.