[Info important to the story: Rowdi has never been allowed in our bedroom, for various reasons. The #1 reason being that it's never been clean enough that I would trust her to not eat random items off the floor, and I'd never be able to find my socks again. Plus, the litter boxes are in our bathroom right now, and I don't want her running in there and fetching poo. Even more, I don't want Sydney to decide that she can't go to the litter boxes anymore.]
SARAHK: So, what should we do about the dog? She’s never been out in the livingroom while we’re doing it before…
FRANK J.: Oh yeah. I don’t know.
SARAHK: I’m sure she’ll be fine. Sydney will stay in the guest room on the other side of the house, and Minerva will probably be at my feet so she can be in the way.
FRANK J.: Ok.
Notice the lack of response from the male of the species, who is focused only on the mating ritual.
Some time later, we are in the throes of passion, and suddenly Frank starts laughing.
So I look up at the male of the species, and he’s looking down and to the right. And Rowdi is licking his hand. And then she looks up at me with those big brown puppy eyes and wags that stooopid stub of hers.
I don’t know about y’all, but that’s pretty much a mood-killer for me. You bad bad dog! I lay my head back down on the bed and close my eyes.
Then I hear this “Er-raaaaaaa-errrrrrrr…..” and I look down and see that Rowdi has turned around and headed toward the foot of the bed, but Minerva is there on the floor. Oh good. A confrontation! Meanwhile, all action on the bed has stopped. We’re laughing, but I’m also a teensy bit annoyed.
So I do what I always do in this situation (well, not this exact situation, but in the dog / cat faceoff), which is snap my fingers. Rowdi immediately sits close to the foot of the bed. Then she turns her head around and looks at both of us so proudly like, “Look, mommy & daddy, I’m sitting nicely next to the bed! You should always let me in here!” Grinning that stupid dog grin.
And then… then!! That dumb, smug dog lies down next to the bed and gets comfortable. Like it’s perfectly normal for her to be there.
Of course, I have given up on salvaging the mating ritual, so we leave the bedroom and I am snapping my fingers the whole way and telling her to get out of my room. She prances out in front of me, wagging that stub, and then when she gets out of my bedroom, she turns around and grins this huge, smug grin and looks up at me like, “Please, pet me! Wasn’t that fun? Shouldn’t I be allowed in there all the time forever and ever? Yay!”
And she is really feeling good about herself, because she was able to go into our room and not just walk around, but lie next to the bed, without even getting yelled at (because of timing and whatnot).
Bad, smug dog.