Six years of observation have led me to the conclusion that my dog is a bitch.
In both senses of the word.
Chloe is a female dog, yes, but she also does not work and play well with others.
Oh, she’s just fine in our “pack,” where she gives orders and my Beloved and I obey. We have to read her mind, but she’s generally pretty transparent. “You want to go outside?” “You’re hungry? Here’s your yummies.” “You want me to play with you? OK, I’ll throw your toy.”
But when she’s with more refined dogs (read: obedient), she’s pushy and demanding.
Earlier this summer, she nipped a friend’s dog when the friend’s dog made the mistake of nosing around in Chloe’s food dish. Today, Chloe’s clearly defined her alpha female status with a visiting relative’s dog by hounding her at every opportunity. Not very welcoming or accommodating, let’s just say.
Bear in mind, Chloe weighs 8 pounds and her primary weapon is a screechy bark that makes even me jump after having tolerated it for six years. When she gets bossy, you know it.
It’s like having a toddler who vehemently demands candy in the checkout line. I cover because I’m such a pushover who’s trained her so poorly.
But, like a mother, I love her even when she embarrasses me. Oh, do I love her.