Top Dog

I have taken to shuffling around the house like an old man. It's not because I am so old, or because of some infirmity, it's because of Bette. That dog follows me everywhere. She's only seven pounds, and when you walk through the house she resembles one of Chandler's squeaky toys. So to keep from stepping on her and killing her, I shuffle. Mark is furious. Bette was supposed to be his dog. He picked her out on the internet, he named her Bette, and he was the one who wanted a new dog so soon after Sasha died. I'm glad he did because I really like this dog, and she likes me. What she doesn't like, or is indifferent to, is Mark. It's as if he doesn't even exist on her radar. She loves Chandler. When I leave the house Mark tells me that she follows Chandler everywhere. So the pecking order of the dog pack for Bette is, Me, Chandler, her bowl of food, and then Mark. I don't know how to change things for Mark. I've suggested he walk her, and feed her, hoping that would imprint him upon her tiny little brain. I even told him that he doesn't have to pick up her shit, or wipe up her pee puddles. I think those suggestions would go a long way to building a relationship with Bette. In the mean time she sleeps on my head exactly like Sasha did, she is in every room I walk into, she clings to me like Saran Wrap. The only time she leaves me is to take a pee, and for that I have to be very observant because she is a stealth pisser. Mark has a way to correct the problem of 'his' dog not being his dog. He wants to get another one. The only problem I see with that is that I'd have three dogs following me around the house instead of two.