Beaumont: Seriously? What does a dawg have to do in this house to get some peace?
Me: What do you mean?
Beau: If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a gazillion times, I do not need a catty friend.
Me: She’s only visiting for three weeks Beau. Be nice.
Beau: Heck! I try being nice. What does she do? She swings her little paws at me and hisses!
Me: Umm… I’m not sure being nice includes standing above her, putting your paw on her back and trying to make her lie down.
Beau: Well if she’d just quit moving I wouldn’t have to try to makeher lie still.
Me: She’s lying still now.
Beau: On my couch.
Me: You mean your dad’s and my couch, right.
Beau: Nope. I mean my couch. Think about it. You’re gone for long periods of the day, sleep in your own bed all night, where do you think I am?
Me: This is not a pretty picture you’re painting.
Beau: It’s pretty nice for me.
Me: (sarcastically – which is always lost on a dog btw) And of course, it’s all about you.
Beau. Is there any other way? Now. About that catty four legged feline. How about moving her off my couch?
Me: Beau! She’s comfortable! And she’s not bothering anyone.
Beau: I’m not comfortable and just might start bothering her if you don’t move her.
So. I move Zoey, my daughter’s cat who’s staying with us for three weeks while they’re off galavanting around Columbia and Aruba. Beau stays on the floor.
Me: Well, aren’t you going to get up.
Beau: Nah. I’m comfortable here on the floor. The hardwood is cooler than the leather. Know what I mean?
Sigh. And I do. He really just wanted to see if I’d do his bidding. I wonder who really does rule in this dog house?