My dog's not spoiled ... I'm just well trained

"The dog will not go up on the furniture," declared The Ultimate Other Half firmly eying up the adorable pup we had just brought home from animal rescue.


"Aw come on," I whinged. That concept was utterly shocking to me. I've had dogs since I was a kid, all of them very much part of the family which mostly meant that humans got to pick the spots on the couches dogs weren't overly fond of. "That's just cruel!"

"No!" insisted Himself who appearantly had decided that it was About The Time To Put His Foot Down.

"Ooo-kay... sure, sure," shrugged after long and fruitless pleading.

The Ultimate Other Half had principles and he was not afraid to use them.

"The dog will NOT sleep in our bedroom!" he insisted.

"No way will the dog ever come to our bed! He has his own one!"

At some point I just stopped arguing.

........................................................

It took me well over a year before The Ultimate Other Half was not bothered to grumble when I snuggled up with our pooch on the couch.

Mutt The Mad eventually learned that if you keep your head down and charge straight at the bedroom door it will open. I never said he was quite normal.

At first we still kept closing the door for night and just got used to the loud bang at early hours as Mutt casually leaked into the room, eventually landing on the rug with a satisfied sigh.

Now the door is just left ajar and Mutt comes and goes as he pleases. Other Half keeps tripping over him in the dark and issuing whispering curses.

This morning in the bed as I was untangling Sir Sprouts busy fingers from dogs generous coat while trying to nudge the Mutt out of the bed so I could finally stretch out my legs; I couldn't help a little giggle.

Marriage, you see, is all about compromising.