Survival of the Yappiest

She's cute, she's small, and she only weighs eleven pounds, but she runs the house. It's Bette, or as Chandler likes to think of her, his worst nightmare. When we first got Bette, Chandler thought she was his bitch. It turns out he was wrong, he is her bitch. He protects her from overly friendly people and other dogs. He watches out for her when they are in the dog run together so that nobody dare steal her. When they walk together, it is Bette who decides when they stop to pee, and when to poop. As cute and cuddly as Bette is, it is apparent that she has descended from wolves, and if you ask me her lineage must be from a particularly strong pack. Yesterday morning I was eating my breakfast pizza (The very same pizza I had the night before, only colder) and watching CBS Sunday Morning. On the sofa next to me was Bette stretched out like a lady of leisure across all three cushions. Standing in front of the sofa was Chandler. A mournful little whimper was coming from him as he stood there staring at Bette. He was terrified. Chandler wanted to get up on the sofa, but Bette was giving him the evil eye. Every move Chandler made to get up on that sofa caused Bette to give a little motion towards him backed up by an angry yap.  I have seen a lot of this lately. She controls the bed just as she was controlling the sofa. No matter which side of the bed Chandler tries to climb up on, she's there yapping away, threatening him. The most amazing thing is that he is actually afraid of her. Yes, it's quite the phenomenon when you see a creature so much smaller controlling the larger of the two.