Daisie Mae, my fabulous 7-year-old chihuahua, is a bitch. I know, I know. I shouldn’t say such mean things about my little love. I also know that you are probably judging me, because it’s up to the owners to raise good dogs. I completely agree, and not to toot my own horn, but toot-toot, she is well-trained. She just doesn’t like people. Especially people who come into her home. Chihuahuas are notoriously territorial, one-owner dogs. I know not all chihuahuas are like that but mine is. She isn’t mean or aggressive, just a little bitchy to everyone except me (and sometimes my grandmother). Poor Daisie gets very upset (and noisy!) when we have company, so everyone tends to agree that she is a bitch. And as much as I would love to disagree with the consensus, I can’t. She simply refuses to make new friends, and that isn’t very kind.
I love her dearly and wouldn’t trade her for the world, but poor Mr. B had to work at winning her over for almost a year before she would go anywhere near him. Even now, she will lay on the couch with him and is at his side anytime he has anything in his hands resembling food. That is, until I walk in the room, at which point Mr. B is rudely reminded by a 5 pound purse dog that he is not her first choice in humans. Plus, she’s kind of prissy and he is a farmer, so they have some fundamental differences. Eventually, Mr. B’s comments of “I wish she wanted to be my dog” turned into “I wish I had a dog of my own”. My heart really did break for him, but the responsibilities of a new puppy would mostly be mine, regardless of who the puppy “belonged” to, so it took him almost a year of talking about his “farm dog” before I caved. He decided a while ago that he wanted a Pembroke Welsh corgi puppy, and with Pinterest and my brother’s girlfriend, L, in his corner, convinced me that he should get a puppy for his birthday. So, I got him a puppy. (What can I say? I’m a sucker. Plus, the man bought me a horse! In all reality, the least I can do is potty train and occasionally snuggle with the cutest puppy on the planet. All for Mr. B, of course.)
With L’s help, I was able to find a reputable breeder, and one Sunday afternoon Mr. B and I made the journey to the middle of the state to pick up a seven-and-a-half week old tri-colored corgi puppy. Mr. B wanted to name him Joey, which I thought was a silly name for a dog, but since the puppy was his, he could call him whatever he wanted. As it turns out, Joey suits him. Mr. B chose well.
Fortunately, Joey agrees that he is Mr. B’s dog. Don’t get me wrong, Joey loves me too, but he clearly prefers Mr. B, a fact that fills Mr. B with pride and warms my heart and makes me smile.
As for Daisie Mae, it took a few weeks, but she’s finally warming up to the little guy. At first she just tried to pretend he wasn’t there. Despite his attempts to play with her, she just ignored him. Eventually, she started acknowledging his existence by looking annoyed and jumping up on to the couch where he couldn’t get to her. Now though, they are becoming friends. They often play together, and the other day I caught Daisie standing in the middle of the living room, letting Joey lick her face and ears. He has tried inflicting this friendliness on her in the past, but she wouldn’t allow it. I think she is finally warming up to him.
HA. Just as I typed that last bit, I heard Daisie growling at Joey in the other room. Some days are better than others. Baby steps.