I am the human; you are the dog. That's Boss Lady's new motto. She uses it whenever she is trying to put one over on me. For instance, she used it the other day when I decided I wanted to get up early and go adventuring in the snow. I trotted my furry self right up the stairs and into her room, where I nose-pokered what I thought was her arm under the covers (turned out it was her knee, but, really, it's all the same). She pulled the blankets further over her head and moaned that she would not be getting out of bed early on a frosty cold morning. I nose-pokered her again and added a whine. She pulled the covers off her head and glared at me. I pointed my bright, shiny eyes right into hers and grinned. I even thumped my tail a little bit so she could tell how I excited I was about the prospect of adventuring in the snow all day. My efforts at dog to human communication worked wonderfully: Boss Lady fully understood exactly what I was telling her. Unfortunately, my skills of persuasion weren't so well tuned, and I was rudely rebuffed with a glare and a most unladylike curse. As a last resort, I turned on my begging eyes. Which is when she informed me of the obvious,
"I am The Human, you are The Dog, and I say we're staying right here in this toasty warm house where it is dry and comfy. There will be no ifs, ands, or buts about it."
And that was the end of that discussion.
A couple days later, Boss Lady's motto made another appearance. I'd finally convinced her, with significant assistance from Boss Lady's Mother, to go for a walk. As we came around the corner, we found ourselves headed straight into a particularly wet and muddy section of the sidewalk. There was just the littlest bit of dry sidewalk available, only enough for one person to pass at a time. I promptly steered myself towards that dry patch, in the process bumping Boss Lady out of the way. I figured the leash was long enough that she could just follow along behind me. No sense in me getting my feet wet for no reason. Her response was immediate; she commanded me to heel, and then forced me to walk through the muddy mess, while her boots stayed clean and dry. I balked at the mud puddle, and gave her a dirty look. She just replied,
"I am The Human, you are The Dog, and it's much more important that my feet remain dry than yours."
So much for looking out for the health and well being of a loyal and beloved pet.
This evening Boss Lady's motto made one more appearance. Boss Lady's Mother was preparing a nice steak and potato supper, complete with carrots and homemade harvest bread. It smelled delicious to me, and I couldn't wait to enjoy my share. Boss Lady appeared and announced it my supper time. As Boss Lady headed for the food closet, I trotted over to Boss Lady's Mother and nosed her elbow. Boss Lady's Mother exclaimed, and Boss Lady gave me a strange look. She walked over to me with my allotted scoop of kibble and prepared to give me my first handful. I looked at the kibble, looked at the steak on the counter, and then looked at Boss Lady. I didn't want to be rude, but that steak just looked so much more appetizing than my daily ration of dry kibble. Boss Lady ignored my looks and shoved the kibble into my mouth. When she tried to give me the next handful, I pointedly stared at the steak. I ended up with another mouthful of kibble. On the 3rd try, I flat out refused the kibble and informed her that I wouldn't settle for less than my share of the steak.
In a very flat voice I was informed, as if I could possibly forget with her constant reminders, "I am The Human, you are The Dog; I eat the steak, you eat the kibble. Take it or leave it."
Well, who can turn down a proposition like that. The kibble suddenly seemed very appetizing.