I love dogs--big dogs, small dogs, purebred, mutts--I love dogs. If I ever win the lottery, I'll probably rescue every dog in need of a fur-ever home that I can find.
We currently have 3 1/2 Chihuahuas (I'll explain in a minute), and being Southern girls, each of our doggie daughters has a name that reflects her Southern heritage--Izzy Bella, Beanie Love, Percy Jane, and Faithie Mae. Percy Jane is the shortened version of her given name, Persephone Jane Ophelia Elizabeth Diane, for obvious reasons. My ex-husband named her Persephone Jane in an unsuccessful attempt to annoy me; not to be outdone, my current significant other and resident "Doggie Daddy" added Ophelia Elizabeth Diane. Men...its a good thing Percy Jane is somewhat of a "big-boned" girl; otherwise, the weight of that moniker would kill her.
Izzy was the first one adopted. Five minutes with her, and I was in love. I later thought Izzy needed a pal, so I found Beanie to keep her company while I was away for long hours at the hospital. Unfortunately, Izzy was quite offended by the intrusion and spent several weeks ignoring her new sister, which in turn, possibly caused Beanie to begin a rather nasty nervous habit of carrying her poo around....but that's a story for another time.
Faithie Mae (or FiFi), a half Chihuahua & half who-knows-what, came to live with us last December after her owner could no longer care for her. She was used to sleeping in bed with her former owner and obviously found hiding under the covers comforting as she adjusted to her new surroundings.
Long before FiFi Mae took up residence in our house, Doggie Daddy had decreed that no dogs could sleep in our bed. Apparently, however, FiFi didn't get the memo. Since Izzy, Beanie, and Percy are rather short-legged girls, this issue had not posed a problem before now. However, with her longer legs, FiFi was easily able to hop up on the bed where, as far as she was concerned, she belonged.
And so the battle began between Doggie Daddy and FiFi. He would put her off the bed, and she would circle around to my side, jump back up, and slide under the covers. When he saw that this tactic wasn't working, he discovered that blowing in her face or on her butt took this little dog to a whole new level of pissed off, causing her to vacate the bed on her own. Being a smart girl, though, she would wait until his breathing changed, signaling his descent into sleep, and back onto the bed she would come.
Doggie Daddy continued this strategy for a couple of weeks, harboring the belief that she would eventually give up. Instead, FiFi decided to get even. Evidently, waiting for him to go to sleep gave her plenty of time to plan her revenge. As we prepared for bed one night, Doggie Daddy pulled the comforter and sheets back to discover holes chewed in the sheets...but only on his side of the bed! I guess FiFi decided that if she ate his sheets, then HE wouldn't be able to sleep in the bed! After finding holes in two sets of sheets and two comforters (including an expensive comforter from L.L. Bean), in addition to a pair of his shorts missing the entire crotch (I can only imagine what her next move would have been!), the head bitch in charge--that being me--advised Doggie Daddy in no uncertain terms to leave the dog alone and let her sleep wherever the hell she wanted. Eyeing his crotchless shorts, he decided FiFi had beaten him at his own game. He didn't like it--I mean, what man likes to admit being outwitted by an eight-pound dog? But he was beaten and knew it.
End game? FiFi sleeps wherever she wants, and Doggie Daddy keeps his crotch.