This is my chair. At the end of the day, when the light begins to fade and the last dish is washed (yes, stupid Bosch is STILL broken, DAMMIT) I remain patient, waiting for that final moment of release, as I breath deep, exhale and slip deep into my chair.
"What the?"
I can hear Cesar Millan, whispering, right now.
"Wait a minute! You paid for your house! You go to work to pay for that couch and that bed, and yet you can’t use it because it “belongs” to the dog? Something’s very wrong there. If this describes you, then it’s time to take back your own home."
Fine. So, now what?
"You must feel in your bones that you are the pack leader in the house, and project that calm-assertive energy."
Yeah, but, see, in my house, calm and assertive just don't mix.
"If you assert true leadership, your dog will not be sad, or hate you, or resent you, even if you take back the place on the sofa."
Yeah, but, see, sad eyes just kill me.
"Having a leader is hardwired into your dog’s brain – that’s what he both needs and wants."
Yeah, but.
"Take advantage of that and go ahead, sit on your couch again!"
Okay, seeing as your the expert and all.
"But you have to really mean it."
FINE!
"GET OFF THE COUCH!!!"
Aaaand, I NEVER saw 4 kids, move so fast, in my life.
Morale of the Story: Jerry Seinfeld is right — dogs are the leaders of the planet. If you see two life forms, one of them's making a poop, the other one's carrying it for him, who would you assume is in charge?
SHUTUP, Cesar!
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