Has Your Dog Become Too Bossy? 

It happens gradually. At first you don’t notice that you’re doing things the way your dog wants. Then it dawns on you: slowly and subtly, you’re following your pooch’s silent “commands.” Not sure if your canine is secretly dominating you? Here are six ways to find out.

When going for a walk, they set the pace. I used to think it was our dog Simon who made me trot faster on our strolls. Simon was a mid-size mongrel and pulled constantly. Then I adopted much smaller, 12 lb. Yorkshire terrier, Libby. I realized that weight and size have nothing to do with it. Willfulness, stubbornness, and yes, doggedness is what the pace is all about. Every day I’m pulled through our neighborhood like we’re trying to catch the last train out of Grand Central. Phew!

They demand constant attention. Sometimes Libby will have everything she needs—she just had her meal, her walk, and her chew bone. Yet I’ll still get the stare. What could she possibly want? Then it dawns on me. She wants attention. She wants me to put down my book or stop watching television and focus only on her. Many times, even a few moments of cuddle or play is all she needs. But when she wants attention, she wants it, and I better be ready.

They sleep with you and hog the bed. I’ve heard many debates on whether dogs should slumber with humans. Many come out on the “no” side. Dogs have germs. Dogs can disrupt the human sleep cycle. Dogs snore. And yes, I agree with all of these, but try telling that to Libby. She doesn’t care. My husband Randy and I lost this battle years ago when she decided her crate would no longer do. She had to sleep with us and for some reason, loves snoozing on my feet. I end up easing her off several times a night.

They ignore commands (except when it suits them). If I’m in the house and call Libby’s name, she thunders towards me like I just promised ten plush toys. Maybe her chew bone is available or a piece of deli turkey fell to the floor. But if she’s outside on her long leash, I can call her name all day. Suddenly, she doesn’t know me. She continues to sniff at the grass, bushes, and God knows what else. I imagine her saying, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Mom.” Many times, I end up reeling her in like a flounder.

They push you through your day. It dawned on me recently that Libby has trained me, rather than vice versa. From the moment I rise in the morning to the time I go to bed at night, life is about accommodating this little dog. It’s not like she’s scary or even demanding. She just won’t let up, whether giving this pitiful whimpering or staring so hard she could slice through granite, or just a frustrated yip, Libby sets the pace and schedule of my existence.

They hit you with a well-timed “cute attack.” Sometimes Libby pushes me to the brink of sanity. I can’t take one more barking fit or walking under foot or begging for the 10^th piece of breakfast or dinner. I’m ready to put her in the kitchen for a time-out. But then she looks at me. Her brown eyes grow extra wide, her fur seems to fan out around her face, like she just had it professionally blown out. Her mouth opens in an impish grin. I stop and forget what I was going to say. Like any good manager, Libby knows when to push and when to ease off.

Sigh. After I left the business world, I thought I was finally done with tough, demanding bosses. Little did I know, the worst was yet to come.

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