It’s said, “Monkey see, monkey do,” but in our case it’s Madeline see her sister Mysti do, and that puppy has to do it too. It doesn’t matter whether it’s chasing the same ball, patrolling the perimeter or getting her teeth brushed.
The other night Mysti had run in and jumped up on her bed. Like a good mother, I went into the bathroom, put toothpaste on her toothbrush, then on Madeline’s and laid the younger one’s toothbrush down. As you can imagine, I was very tired but that’s generally when children, husband’s and dog’s want the most attention, I’ve found.
Instead of asking Mysti to get out of the bed and come to me so that I could brush her teeth, I went to her. Then I went back into the bathroom where Madeline and Claude were, picked up Madeline’s toothbrush, sat down on a stool and asked Madeline to come to me. This is where the little one, whose real name is Menace, usually goes bonkers running to me for her nightly ritual. She has loved it since the first day she came to live with Mysti and us and Mysti still has the puppy teeth scars to prove it.
Another little thing about Madeline is that she thinks she’s queen of the house but we don’t let her get away with that thought, that is, unless I’m tired. And, as I’ve already mentioned, I was very tired that night.
So, there I am, sitting there waiting impatiently for a little ten-pound dog to get the heck over to me so that I can brush her teeth and she’s not moving. Claude couldn’t believe it. “What’s wrong with her,” he asked?
To which I replied, “Oh well, you know dogs aren’t capable of creative thought according to most out there but our little one doesn’t want me to brush her teeth in the bathroom tonight like we generally do. Instead, she wants me to take her to the bed, put her up into it like her sister and brush her teeth there.”
In case you didn’t know, because of the MS, Madeline can’t jump but she knows how to get her parents, us humans, to help her up onto said furniture or to help her with anything else she wants. We’re here due to Madeline’s grace and she wants us to remember it.
Anyway, back to my story. The little scamp wouldn’t budge and wouldn’t let me brush her teeth until, you guessed it, I walked into the bedroom, told her to come there and put her up on the bed. That’s when she settled into a sitting position so that her and her sister looked like quotation marks, and presented her teeth for brushing.
One question. Should I beat her? Maybe one more. Am I the crazy one for letting a dog rule my life? Think I have the answer but just wondering if there are others out there like me.
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