Rescue Me from the Terrier
by Kemosabe
It has finally happened … I am in Dog Hell. The humans rescued a little terrier mix that was running down the middle of the road. At first I thought, well, how nice and compassionate of my humans. After the little tyke is fed and taken care of, she can go live somewhere else.
But she is still here. She is bossy, dictatorial, and possessive. She thinks she owns the couch. So far she has bitten Crockett on the foot — boy was he surprised — chased Thunderbear out of the room, sent Buckaroo into Time Out, and actually challenged ME for the back-seat car space.
Yodel, the Terrible Terrier
She was going to go live with Tigger’s mother in Arizona…but she has all these health problems that make her unsuitable. I can tell you it’s not just her immune system problems, or her stinky skin, or all the medicines and treatments and special foods that make her unsuitable. It’s her dominating personality and rule-the-roost attitude. Where does a dog weighing a mere 13 pounds get off telling me what to do?
Normally, small dogs bow down to me (with the exception of Pomeranians who just pretend I am invisible). Small dogs accept my authority and my size; after all, I can body slam as well as Hulk Hogan. Small dogs can be fun to play with especially if they run fast so I can chase them like squirrels.
This small dog, however, is some kind of alien terrorist, clearly sent here to disrupt my kingdom and usurp my throne. On top of that, she has attached herself to Tigger like a barnacle or a fuzzy brown tick. Not only is she needy, she is high maintenance.
As you might imagine, we Aussies have been a bit stressed over this overbearing, thinks-she’s-our-empress dog in our midst. Luckily our human has been working on a canine stress formula and we have been among the test dogs of the various batches.
Let me tell you…those little tasty treats are like magic. At a higher dose it’s like having the best nap ever in the world. At a low dose the terrier interloper doesn’t annoy me. No matter how hard she barks or how imperious she gets, I couldn’t care less. And what’s even better: when the terrier is given one of the stress treats there is peace in the kingdom for many hours.
Of course the stress treats don’t solve all our problems…like trying to get the bossy little terrier to head on down the road. Can’t we just trade her for another Australian Shepherd, or a couple of packages of marrow bones?
