Cesar Milan, a/k/a The Dog Whisperer, thinks it's important when dealing with your dogs to be the pack leader. Every member of the pack has a rank, from the lowest to the highest, and knowing where they fit is vital to the pack's harmony.
That's probably important in our human world as well, and if I didn't know where I ranked before this weekend, I certainly do now.
Joseph was home for Roger's birthday and we had just gotten back from the birthday dinner, when I realized I hadn't seen Layla in a while. I asked Joseph to help me look for her. We both went outside to the backyard and Layla came happily bounding up to us with something in her mouth....something with a tail...a long, skinny tail and little claw feet.
Joseph and I realized at the same time that the treasure Layla was proudly presenting to us was a rat - and it was still alive and kicking!
Joseph turned to me and yelled, "SHE'S GOT A RAT!", but by the time the words were out of his mouth, I was already through the back door and making tracks into the house. Which is why I'm so surprised that Joseph ended up AHEAD of me in this race for our lives.
Joseph and I ran, screaming hysterically, into the den, through the kitchen, past the dining room and into the safety of the closest room with a door. Which we promptly slammed in Layla's poor confused face.
See, this puzzles me, too. I tend to believe the opposite of old Cesar. Most dogs I know do pretty much whatever they want to, I know mine do, anyway. Don't get me wrong, my dogs are trained and if they think they'll be rewarded with food, they are MINE, body and soul, just waiting to make my slightest wish come true...unless we have visitors. Layla's reaction when we have poor unsuspecting visitors makes the Mesquite Rodeo look like a children's pony ride. It's not pretty, believe me.
Yep, dogs definitely have their own interpretation of our rules and regulations. Take the game of fetch, for example. Layla's definition of "fetch" is to run after whatever is thrown and bring it back approximately half-way. She then drops it and gives you a look that says "I feel I've completed my part of this job. If you have a problem with my performance, call my Union Rep."
That's why it was so surprising that she was apparently DETERMINED to bring this squealing, germ infested, plague carrying RODENT right up to us and drop it at our feet (or fling it in our hair, which is what I think Joseph and I were both afraid of).
This is the part of the story where I realize that while I would give up anything for my children - my safety, my home, my life, even *gasp* my hair coloring appointments, Joseph didn't necessarily feel the same way about me.
Joseph made that clear when, while running through the kitchen, he yells back over his shoulder at me, "Mom, quit following ME, she's CHASING YOU!"
Believe me when I tell you that it is a sad day, when you realize that the very life you carried for nine long, morning sickness, swelling, no caffeine allowed, ugly clothes wearing months would throw you to the lions (or in this case, the vermin toting dog).
Yes,a very sad day, indeed.
