Battle of the Wills a/k/a Showdown Under the Dining Table (The Fur Children – Part 2).

This is why Max is a piece of sh*t. He’s one ticked off dog. He’s pouting and throwing a hissy fit because we are dog sitting. Max thinks it’s been long enough and the other 2 dogs should just go home. Seriously, I brought 2 doggie chicks into the house. You’d think he’d be happy. Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen him show interest in girl doggies. I wonder if he’s gay. No wonder he’s mad.

We have a routine.  Everyone knows routines are good for dogs and children.  Max has developed his own routine.  As soon as I get up, I let all the dogs out and feed them, then let them out again.  Max refuses to leave the patio.  He just stands there with his lower teeth poking out from under his top lip.  I stand over him, ushering him off the patio to explore the lush green grass and plethora of toilet area.  He just stands there and moans.  Yes, he moans.  He whines.  He’s so freaking annoying.  Finally, I have to let all the other dogs in and Max weasels his way in too. I have to get ready for work, so I just let it go.  Big mistake.  Undoubtedly, Max finds his way to the dining room table and then proceeds to sh*t under it. Yep, every, frickin’ morning.  He’s such an a**hole.

It does no good to punish Max. If he were a human child, he’d ride the short bus. Sure, he can do a handful of tricks but he truly lacks the ability to retain most information. Every day, I have to lift his stuffed-sausage body onto my bed because he’s too short and fat to get up on my bed unassisted. He leans up against my bed and whines until I succumb. What does he do? As I pick him up, he growls. He’s the one who wants to get on my bed in the first place!


This is also why he’s a cat. He only tolerates me for what I can do for him. I call him to come downstairs and he looks at me as if I have 4 heads. “No”, he says. “You should carry me”. I lightly kick his butt and he’s propelled to move forward down the stairs. Then he glares at me in rage.

I’m the flippin’ Alpha Dog in my house but Max doesn’t care. As far as he is concerned, I was put on this earth to feed and walk him. And brush his hair. And trim his nails. And take him on car rides. And give him peanut butter as a treat. And bring him lattes.


Since the chick dogs have been here, Max has been sulking even more. His whines are more prominent. His poops in the house are more frequent. And worst of all, he demands I love on him and let him spoon me in bed.