Sunday, February 21, 2010
I just said, Bad, dog, bad! The problem is…
My dogs like being called bad dogs.
It means they are one step closer to achieving world domination.
Besides, what is the point in being a good dog?
What does it get ya?
A pat on the head?
How does that compare to breaking into the garbage and downing a tidbit of chicken and Pringles crumbs?
And even when food isn’t involved, why come to Mommy when Mommy will come to you if you just look pathetic enough and shiver in the wind?
Plus each is bad in a different way so that they can cover the entire spectrum of badness.
Molly loves the sound of her own bark and will stake out food for hours for that one brief, glimmering moment Mommy forgets about it.
Orlin was once a good dog. The only one I’ve ever had really. Now he is going deaf.
No, please don’t feel sorry for him. Now he gets to do all kinds of bad things (jump the doggie gate, go explore the kitchen floor, check out the bathroom garbage) in the name of “Oh, I didn’t hear you.”
Princess, well, we don’t have enough room or time to list in how many ways she is bad. Let’s just say Land Shark and leave it at that.
And lastly Chief. I think he spends every waking moment I am not with him, figuring out how to torture me. It isn’t even like he does the opposite of what I want.
Sometimes he does 25% of what I want, then expects 100% of the credit!
So I live in a household full of bad dogs.
One might wonder if I weren’t a bad Mommy if I didn’t just get a face-full of kisses and a stranger complimenting me on having the happiest dogs he’s ever seen.
I guess it really is good to be bad! ☺