Jerky Dog and Dirty Mouth

“I hate this damn dog!” My three-year old son said that the other day referring to Maggie, our six-year-old, 9 pound Toy Fox Terrier.
There is much wrong with that statement.
First, it is just not true. He loves that dog. The problem is the dog doesn’t really care for him. I am not sure she cares for anybody, but she sees Tiernan as the life-form that usurped her throne as Queen of the World.
Before we had kids, we had Maggie. She was our little baby. She could snuggle into our lap and get our complete and undivided attention for long walks and tummy rubs. We would pamper and play with her. She was the cock of the walk.
Then Tiernan was born and she had to compete for our attention. Of course, her attempts were futile; things were never going to go back to way they were before he was born. And then we have another child and Maggie seemed resigned to her demotion from little baby to family pet.
Tiernan loved Maggie from the moment he realized that she was in the room. He wanted to pet her and play with her. But, she wanted nothing to do with him. This could have been a jealously thing or it could have been overprotective parents always telling the dog to “be nice.” We may have intimidated her into not liking the child.
Eventually, Maggie learned to accept Tiernan. He still wants to play with her constantly. He would love nothing more than to be able to chase her all around and play with her, the same way he sees Mommy and Daddy playing with her. But she refuses to play with him. If I am throwing the toy and she is fetching it. And I give it to Tiernan, and he throws it – the dog just stand there. The boy just throw the ball, to the exact same location that I did which caused the dog to go happily running after it, but because she knows Tiernan threw the ball, she refuses to fetch it.
She does the same thing when we’re playing tug-o-war. When I hand the toy she and I were tugging to Tiernan, she just lets go and stands there. She goes on strike.
Lately, Tiernan has been exposed to other dogs, his Aunt Susan and Uncle Alex got a new dog, a big sweet Shepherd mix, named Shadow. She is considerably bigger than Maggie and more amenable to a small child playing chase with her and pulling her hair and trying to ride her. Surprisingly, the 9 pound, 10-inch dog does not like to be ridden by the 3-pound 33-inch child.
So, the other day, I am making dinner and Tiernan is trying to play chase with Maggie. He is trying to chase her around the house, but she is just laying on the couch. After a few unsuccessful attempts to get the dog to play, he walks into the kitchen and says, “I hate this damn dog!”
Now, no doubt he has heard this phrase from his father (that’s me, for those of you who are easily confused.) I probably say this twice a week. It is also untrue when I say it. (most of the time.) The dog is infuriating. She always seems to require attention, like the need to let out or be fed at the worst times. But, before you condemn me, as a dog hater, understand that she doesn’t help herself. She is the jerk of the dog world. She’s not a bad dog. She’s not mean spirited or evil, she’s just a jerk. All the dogs in the neighborhood agree. They walk by the house and say, “The bitch, that lives here is jerk,” because for the most part I think she is. She doesn’t play well with other dogs. She is too nervous to have fun with big dogs, and behaves awkwardly around dogs her own size. She feels threatened by every other creature.
But the biggest problem with Maggie is that she must have a genetic mutation. All dogs, are alleged to have a innate desire to please their master. Well, that trait seems to have skipped Maggie. She doesn’t want to please anybody but Maggie. She’s a mutant.
And she is a picky eater. The dog is a pickier eater than I am.
She lives with a one-year old that likes to eat with her hands. That is like dog-scrap heaven. There are dogs that could live very well just off of the food that Reagan drops on the floor. Granted, the girl’s diet consists mostly of Cheerios and she drops them in astounding numbers. I know this because I step on them and make them little itty-bity crumbs. You would think that the dog, would be all over the Cheerios or anything that falls like manna from heaven, but unless it is meat, she won’t eat it. Maggie will not eat just anything. Oh, she’ll eat the steak or chopped meat. She’ll even scoff down the chicken nuggets, but the omnipresent Cheerios lay on the floor for me to crush.She is a mutant.
She knows no tricks, she only sits when she deems it appropriate to do so (like when she’s going to get a treat.) The same goes for listening in general, she listens to commands on her terms. She is more cat than dog.
But, back to Tiernan and his wonderful command of the English language and the slang that accompanies it like a parasite. “I hate this damn dog!”
Upon hearing this, I confront him and tell him that he must not say such things. That it is bad to hate anything, especially family members like Maggie. I tell him that damn is bad word and he should never say it. He looks at me like, “You say it all the time.” And I say, “In know that Daddy has a bad habit of saying it but, nice little boys and girls should not say it. Daddy owns a house. When you are old enough and rich enough to be a Daddy and own a house you can say bad words, until then please don’t say that again. And I will do my best not to say it either.”
Oh wait. I have to run, the damn dog needs to be taken out.