ARGUMENTS WITH THE DOG

My dog Cassie is undeniably adorable. You can ask anyone. She is skilled at snuggling, thoughtfully warms the bed for us at night, and has mastered the art of the tilty-head ear pop. 

See what I mean?

But despite these attributes, she has some flaws. More specifically, she is not always reasonable, has next to no short-term memory, and likes my husband way better than she likes me. This has led to moments of great tension between us. 

Just yesterday, for example, I took her on a walk in the nearby prairie. I congratulated myself on being an incredibly loving and selfless dog mom, especially since a polar vortex has been hanging around the neighborhood and I was quickly losing all feeling in my extremities. But as I watched Cassie flounce happily though snow drifts, I told myself it was worth it.

I was wrong.

The conflict began shortly after we got home. I took off Cass's leash, cracked the icicles from my nose, and turned to find her looking at me expectantly. I steeled myself, knowing exactly what was coming. 

Mom. 

"What?" 

When are you taking me for a walk? 

(In case you're wondering about this conversation, I can only tell you that a famous author once wrote "Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen." This, of course, has nothing to do with me. I am simply not a well person.) 

"What do you mean, when am I taking you for a walk? We just got back from a walk."

Did not. 

"We DID! We got in the car. We went to the prairie. You said hi to a terrier, sniffed his butt, and then we most definitely started walking."

Did not. 

"Are you kidding me? I took you off-leash and let you do zoomies across the bridge. I endured verbal abuse from other people who screamed leash laws at me. I kept walking long after my feet had turned into blocks of ice."

Did not. 

"Did so!"

"Did not. And I know you're taking me on a walk because you have your big poofy jacket on and your going-out boots and my leash is hanging from the bannister.

"It's hanging there because we JUST GOT BACK FROM A FRICKIN' WALK!!"

Mom.

"What?"

When are we going for a walk?

At that, I pointedly removed my big poofy jacket and my going-out boots and marched into the kitchen. Cassie trailed behind me, muttering. Then she planted herself by the patio doors. 

Mom. I need to go out. 

"No, you do not. I just disposed of several poop-filled bags that would indicate otherwise."

I need to go out. Now. 

"Cass—" 

Now, Mom. 

"Okay, fine!" I yanked the door open and she leaped out onto the deck. Less than one minute later, she was scratching at the glass. 

Mom. I need to come in. 

"I just let you out two seconds ago." 

Mom. I've been out here ALL DAY! I think you are trying to kill me. 

I gritted my teeth and opened the door. Cassie gave me an aggrieved look and bulleted off in search of my husband. By the time I reached them, she was already in his lap. He was scratching her tummy and seemed to be listening intently.

"Mommy did what to you? Yes, yes. Of course I believe you." 

And the dog sneered at me in triumph.