Bunny here at the keyboard writing about some things on my mind.
My human wrote a post last week about how I don’t like to let Flattery pose in front of the camera, but I believe she wrote a highly sugar coated version of what’s really going on, and I’m here to expose the truth. I just want to the real story of what’s going on around here to be told.
It’s not easy being the good dog around this house.
There’s always a Shepherd or two barking and another Greyhound getting into mischief. If you could see the shenanigans that happen here on a daily basis, well, I think I could get us a YouTube channel based on the antics seen on the Petcube camera alone. That thing only records one room, too. It’s frustrating to be the one doing things right and then see those who misbehave get the rewards of the tasty pilfered treats and all the attention from the pet parental units.
I think the dog who didn’t cause trouble should be the first one whose name is said when the humans come home. That’s not what happens, though. It’s always “Oh, Flattery!” Oh Flattery, my tail! How about, “Oh, Bunny, you good girl” for a change? Humans are slow on the uptake most of the time. I love them, but this is one of their faults.
The other day when Flattery was messing up the modeling job, I had to intervene. It was time for the humans to take note of who the good dog is around here. My plan started working right away, too. As soon as I walked over in front of the camera, both of my humans started saying my name a lot. There were also treats tossed over to my spot on the daybed where I like to supervise from, but I knew those would keep for later. That’s not Flattery’s spot. Once I intervened, the humans acknowledged what a good dog I am by letting me pose, the way it should have been from the beginning, and giving me the modeling treats.
I thought I’d finally turned them around after that, but I was wrong.
Saturday afternoon, my human needed a canine model. She switched our collars and Flattery was most uncooperative. She wouldn’t even hold her head up. My human got the treats and the camera, and as soon as she opened the door, I trotted right up those stairs and got ready to work. Meanwhile, Lazybones was still reclining on the dog bed in the living room. When we came downstairs, she had the nerve to ask for treats, but she didn’t get any. I took my place on the couch with pride and basked in the glow of a job well done.
The next day, the humans were having a lazy Sunday morning, before Dad decided to take a shower and get ready to take my human to go hunt for food. He let Morgan go into the bathroom with him and she was playing in the hallway and bedrooms after he opened the door. I don’t mind that. It helps her burn off energy. After that is when he really kinked my tail. Dad brought Morgan out to her crate and got treats for Flattery and me.
What happened next can only be described as an outrage. Dad lured us into the bedroom and put the gate up in the hallway. Then he let Morgan out in the living room. They were practicing obedience and playing and having a gay old time, all because Morgan throws a tantrum to get her way all the time.
Something inside me snapped and I had to deliver a message that this was unacceptable. I was angry and offended, and I was not going to take it lying down for a nap. I marched into the hallway, looked right at dad and peed on the floor. He started talking really loudly, probably something about how he should have celebrated what a great dog I am, but I wasn’t listening. The indignity of it all had come crashing down on me. Dad put Morgan back in her crate and took the gate down quick to start cleaning up. Flattery and I resumed our rightful place in the living room.
Then Dad found the exclamation point on my message. I’d left a special present for him on the floor on his side of the bed. It was just in case he didn’t completely get the message from the hallway. I was mad, and his behavior was unacceptable.
As a senior dog, I’ve come to realize that sometimes you have to take drastic measures to get your point across.
Make no mistake, I am the good dog, but I am not going to let anyone wipe their paws on me. I tried sending the message by standing by the gate, but Dad told me to go lay down. I did the only thing I could on such short notice to deliver the message. Hopefully now they will all have a deeper appreciation for the good dog.