Communicating

My family says I’m bossy.  I disagree.  I’m simply a dog who knows exactly what he wants and is committed to getting it. 

And besides, what my family calls being bossy is actually just me communicating with them.  We don’t naturally speak the same language, my family and I.  They rely on words (and I’ve learned quite a few from sit, down, paw, and eights to squirrel, cookie, walk and focus (sometimes I get distracted when I go out to do business and my family has to remind me to focus on the task at hand)).  I, however, rely on barks, whines, and looks to get my points across.  The way I see it, both sides are talking, we’re just talking in different languages and making do as best we can.  They might sometimes find my way of communicating annoying, but do you have any idea how many times a day I have to hear them say the word 'sit'?  It gets old…quick. 

So that’s my opinion and my family's.  Now it’s your turn, my loyal readers.  Am I bossy or am I simply communicating my wants and needs?  Feel free to use the following as a guide.

Toys:

I want a toy!

There are everyday toys and then there are special toys.  Everyday toys are dull to play with, but good for greeting someone at the door with.  Everyday toys live throughout the house, scattered under tables, beneath chairs, in the middle of the room, and on stair treads.  Special toys, however, are fun to play with (and even more fun to rip to shreds) and generally live in closed off closets and rooms awaiting a special request.  I know where all those closed off closets are and when I want a toy, I ask my family by parking myself outside the door and barking hysterically.  If my family wants to hear the television, they pretty much have to give me a toy.

Bedtime:

When I’m ready to go to bed, I’m ready to go to bed and, what’s more, it is my firm belief that when I go to bed, everyone should go to bed.  Why?  Two reasons:

1. If I go to bed and my family remains awake, someone might decide to snack without me which is beyond rude. 
2. When everyone else finally decides to pack it in, they might assume that I’m not awake and waiting for my goodnight treat.  They would assume incorrectly. 

So what’s a dog like me supposed to do when he’s ready to go to bed and no one else is? 

I start with a combination of physical and vocal cues: I stalk into the bedroom, throw myself down on my pillow, and issue an exaggerated sigh.  Then I wait for my message to really penetrate my family's brains.  While I wait, I snooze--why waste the time?  This step usually lasts for about a half hour.

If, when I wake, my family still hasn’t called it a night, I up the ante and move to a more visible spot: the threshold of the doorway between Ma and Pa’s room and the hallway.  With my snout peeking out of the door, I give my family in the living room a distant side eye (when I'm not snoozing again) to encourage them to move along.

I'm watching you!

Now let’s say my family still does not submit to my demands.  If that’s the case, I get up, drag myself into the hallway, and shoot them the dirtiest look I can muster.

Staring someone down

Going through all these steps might result in my family laughing at me or saying that they are going to ignore me, but I know from experience that it is nearly impossible to ignore me when I give them that final “look.”  It’s only a matter of time before everyone starts fidgeting uncomfortably and eventually get up and head to bed.  Family 0—Rigby 1.

Go to Work:

Part of my job as Sister’s Administrative Assistant is that I am in charge of keeping a careful eye on the time clock.  If Sister is so much as a minute late coming back from lunch, I set myself up in her office and give her one of my disdainful looks.  Needless to say, she always comes running (though she’s usually muttering something about her being Bob Cratchit to my Ebenezer Scrooge).

Walks:

As I mentioned in a recent post, I’ve actually started to enjoy walks.  I mean, for the longest time I hated walks.  I hated being told to walk nice on a leash or, even worse, having to wear the snout guard.  And those punishment walks my family used to take me on (long walks designed to tire me out when I was becoming incorrigible)?  They were definitely not my idea of a good time.  But now, I actually demand walks whenever I’m out east.

Usually, when I want to go for a walk, I get all excited and start pacing the room.  That frantic energy doubles if my family shows even the slightest sign of daring to leave the house without me.  Sometimes, however, I have to take it a step further.  Here’s what I did a few weekends ago to express my excitement about going for a walk:

1. Barked frantically
2. Sneezed repeatedly
3. Retched loudly
   

Luckily, Ma got the message before I actually lost my breakfast.