For the first four years of this pup’s life, I at least tried to be the head of this household.
I admit, I failed miserably and gave into that cute face too much, but I tried.
Last year, there was shift. I was 35 in human years, he was 35 in dog years, and it was clear he thought the playing field should be leveled.
“You want me to stop marking in the kitchen?
Dude… you’re so not the boss of me.”
It was a battle of wills. I even brought some Dog Whisperer moves into play… sadly, to no avail.
And today, another shift occurs. Riley turns 42 in dog years today, thus surpassing me as the eldest in the household. And he hasn’t let me forget it for a moment.
“You talkin’ to me?”
I give up.
All Hail The King.
