No use crying over spilt milk

October 23, 2009 -

Molly and Rosso don’t know who’s boss. Or, more specifically, I’m realizing they think they are boss. I’m not sure if they’ve determined who between them is the most-most in charge, but they seem to agree it’s not me.

It all came about the other day when my daughter and I were climbing the stairs for bedtime. We have “Book Club” every night before bed, and I let her drink a glass of cold milk (her favorite beverage). Usually this isn’t a big deal, but I sort of filled it more than usual and Molly and Rosso blast past—through, rather—us up the stairs to wait for us at the top. My daughter hates to spill, it distresses her. I hate having 45-65 pound dogs barging past me (go figure.)

So I started explaining to my daughter that we can’t let them past. I earned myself a dirty look. She is an itty bitty thing, and she’s right: even Molly outranks her in size now. Ok, I realized that I’ve been lax in letting them burst past me. In my defense, when Molly was a baby, she’d bound clumsily up the stairs and do the doggie play bow at the top of the stairs. Killed me every time. Moderately less cute nowadays, when I’m recovering from being knocked down on the stairs.

So, you might be wondering how this is my fault. Who goes first is a big deal in dog language. If I make them wait for me to proceed through a door or down a hallway, that sends a message that I am in charge. I am the pack leader. I haven’t been much of a leader lately. It’s similar to making your dog sit for petting or before you’ll serve their dinner. When I get lax on the rules, I start to notice they’re less inclined to listen to me in other areas. It’s like a toddler: they test the boundaries and, in finding them wanting, expand their behavior. ‘Mom lets me get away with X,Y,Z now, I wonder if I can do Q.’

Well, Miss Molly and dear Rosso, you can’t. Game over. I’m alpha.