In June of 2007, some friends had a dog they couldn’t keep anymore. Beagles weren’t meant to live in townhouses, and my place offered a lot for him. Plus it meant he didn’t go to the pound.
He’s a sweet dog, and he’s dumb as a sack of hammers. He’s picky about going outside in the rain or cold, he sometimes decides the carpet is easier to pee on than the grass, and he really doesn’t like to share his food.
For the last year and a half, I have fed, sheltered, and loved him. And for the most part, he has loved me. Sure, we’ve had to occasionally re-establish dominance (typical for the breed), but in general, He’s been mine, and I’m his.
Until SHE moved in.
Since Ursula moved in, it has become more and more obvious that I’m just the caretaker, and she’s his human. His great goal in life is to sleep at her feet when she’s working in the studio. He crys the great beagle cry when she won’t let him in. He sleep at her feet of the bed, and GOD FORBID actually listens to her sometimes.
Yesterday cemented it.
We pull into the driveway. I open the door so that the dogs can get out. I gett greeted by Brandon, the boarder collie. And Gir, the animal whom I have sheltered and fed and loved?
He CRIES, he WHINES, and he runs over to Ursula and PEES WITh JOY that she’s home. Jumping and whimpering and all kinds of loving HER, and ignoring ME.
The ingrate.
On the other hand, now SHE’S stuck with him…..
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