Dogs with Attitude...

I've come to the realization that my dogs are incredibly spoiled and developing extreme attitude.  

Take for instance, this lovely rain we've had for 24 hours.  It's really more of a fine mist.  Hardly detectable.  Pip, who thinks himself a cat, is completely beside himself with the fact that he indeed is expected to go outside in it.  He stands at the edge of the house where the eve keeps about two inches of sidewalk dry, and he refuses to walk onto the wet cement and especially the wet grass.  If I leave him there long enough he gives in eventually and does his business, but usually I am required to carry him to the grass and place him on it.  It's pretty much like having a battle of wills with a teenager but I'm too impatient to wait him out.  If he were a real teenager I would be stuck with waiting him out, but since Pip weighs less than a sack of sugar, he's at my mercy.   

Dobby, though not one to hold a grudge in the slightest, gives me looks of a teenager too.  This was his expression this morning when he met the gruesome reality that he, too, was expected to go outside. 

In the back of my head somewhere I hear, "What chu talkin' 'bout, Willis?"

 
And Pip.  Well, he is not one of those forgiving dogs who never holds a grudge.  Catlike, he glowers and mopes until I've won back his love with a slice of bacon or a new rawhide bone.  

Here's another example.  My sis in law gave me a gift card to Barnes and Noble for my (early) birthday.  I thought that what with the rain and all, it was the perfect day for a trip to the bookstore.  I bought an awesome book on creative spaces, and treated myself to a slice of chocolate cheesecake to go.  I saved my treat for the end of my day.  I kicked back with my favorite peeps (or paws), and settled in for Friends reruns. 

Now, usually I am inclined to share a little of my people food with my dogs, permitted it's safe for them.  And whipped cream is especially appreciated by my little monsters.  But no chocolate for them, so that meant no cheesecake tonight.  With their dad being out of town, there was no one else to appeal to with those puppy dog eyes.  No meant no.  But it didn't mean they didn't try it on me.  

First there was this look.  Notice Dobby's eyes are sort of glazed over, as is what usually  happens when food is involved.  Notice all ears are perky and alert.  They are hopeful.  Optimistic even.

Then it gets more intense.  They start moving in on me, a sort of "in your face" maneuver to intimidate me.  Dobby tries an Oliver Twist pleading sort of ploy.  Pip just gazes into my face intently and says, "Look.  Look into my eyes..."  

This is generally where I give in to avoid what lies ahead. 

But as hope and optimist fades, the ears start to droop.  This is especially Pip-like.  Dobby's ears aren't as emotionally impacted.  The eyes start to become less rounded and somewhat piercing.

Then they start playing hardball.  They put on their sad faces.  They appeal to me with withering looks that whisper, "But Mom!  What did we do?  We just want a teeny morsel.  We'll try to do better - to BE better!"  Dobby particularly has the sad face down-pat. 

But I hold my ground.  I tell them the dreaded words every kid loathes to hear.  I plead with them, "But it's for your own good!"  And that's when the teenage drama queen in Pip comes out.  He turns his back on me and would cross his arms (paws) if he could.  And he refuses to talk to me.  Total silent treatment.  Dobby just continues to be pathetic.

 
So now you can see that these precious wee babes of mine are not as innocent and sweet as they might usually appear.  Especially the one on the right.  He can be a total diva.  

Except...

Less than twenty minutes later, this is what I had on my lap...

 My bet?  He's dreaming of cheesecake.