I have been wrongly accused. It's been going on for years, but finally after months and months and months of trying to tell her, Gretchen has finally learned that I am not as alpha as she thinks I am.
The lesson was finally learned a few weeks back when Quillette was visiting. She's visiting now as well, but finally Gretchen has learned that Q is the alpha and I am merely respectful of her status.
This is how it went down. When Q comes to visit, we are often given a chew bone in the evenings. This is to relax us after our day's adventures and is meant as a treat for being such wonderful companions. I generally am not interested in chew bones, but when we have a guest, my interest perks up and I'll chew down a whole bone in one sitting.
But I won't chew on it until our guest is finished. The same is true for eating a meal. We are served at the same time and I will wait until the other dog - Monty, Q, Woobie -- finishes their meal. Gretchen thought this meant that I was being dominant. That I wanted to be the last to eat both so the other dogs would be jealous that they ate so fast, but also because I wanted to protect my food.
How wrong she was. I've tried to tell her this on numerous occasions. True, I will protect my food and I've growled at Monty and Q and I got into a big fight over a morsel or two in the past, but I've learned that Q is Queen (Monty is King) and that the polite, respectful way to eat is to wait until the top dog of the moment is finished. You see, in dog etiquette, the top dog eats first and the rest of the pack follows. While I might protect my food (I'm not that submissive), I will always eat last.
What's a bit maddening is that I was not the one to teach Gretchen this lesson. Her new boss did. Gretchen was talking about how I wait to eat a chew bone or my meal until after all the others eat and Sheila, Gretchen's boss, explained that I wasn't being dominant, I was following the pack rules. I know I should be grateful to Sheila for finally getting through to Gretchen, but there are times when I wish humans (mine in particular) understood my language better than they do. It seems that I am always having to clarify and repeat, to go over the way I think and act again and again hoping that my humans will understand what I mean.
Quillette says that I need to realize this is how it will be for the rest of my life. Repetition is the only way humans learn, she tells me. She's eleven-years-old and has had to train her fair share of humans, so I respect her words of wisdom. Still, it's a bit frustrating at times. I mean, imagine having to say over and over and over again, I would like to take a walk and feel as if no one really hears you, as if no one is really listening. Okay, I'll admit that my humans finally get when I need to take a walk, but they are still learning so many things about me that I find it kind of exhausting.
Who knew that when I agreed to be a part of a human family that the teaching would fall on my shoulders? The lessons never cease. It's a good thing I love my family as much as do because sometimes they can be exhausting!
