Who’s the boss?

Stop the Presses column by Chris Graham

He always gets upset at me for hiding my snacks.

What he doesn’t realize is … I’m a dog, one, and two, has he ever offered to give me a few feet of space that I can call my own, maybe throw in a chest of drawers or something else that I can use to keep things in order, so to speak?

No.

He just walks around the house singing those stupid songs.

“Benzi wants more Benzi snacks.” “Benzi likes to hi-i-i-ide things.”

He could rhyme these songs, let me tell you – it wouldn’t hurt him a bit, and wouldn’t take much effort, given their simplicity.

But anyway, he never once asked me if I wanted to have, say, a hutch that I could put something on – maybe a nice pink lily or something, with a doilie in the shape of a heart.

I like things in the shape of hearts – but then again, I’m a miniature poodle.

It’s kind of automatic that we have to like hearts. And doilies. And pink lilies.

I digress.

Because I’m just dreaming here.

Not that he has anything to worry about – he has a chest of drawers, and a desk for his computer and books and notebooks.

And a cupboard to keep food in.

Not to mention all that cabinet space that he has filled up with God-knows-what.

He has stuff everywhere – literally.

And he gets riled up at me when I hide my snacks or my treats under a cushion on the couch.

Some nerve this guy has – giving me a hard time.

Oh, well. Guess I’ll have to pee in the floor again.

You know – to show him who’s boss.


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