As the door slowly closed and the guardians made their way down the front steps and out to the driveway, Buddy turned to Spiffy and chewed roughly on his worn, red collar. He began to growl playfully and barked loud in Spiffy’s face. He would bark twice, pause to build the suspense and fear in Littlechubby Spiffy, and then he would pounce, lightly attaching to Spiff’s tender jugular. Then Buddy flipped him over by his neck and started chewing on his under carriage. This made Buddy feel very powerful and intimidating.

The funny thing was, Spiffy never was scared of Buddy. He wasn’t bright enough to be scared of anything. He saw the vicious neck biting as signs of good ol’ brotherly affection. One time, Spiffy almost lost his life to the jaws of a Rottweiler if it were not for a quick yank on the leash by the male guardian. Even when the Rott’s jaws were an inch from theTiny pup’s face, Spiffy was still offering one of his patented friendly licks. So, while Buddy slobbered all over his curly white hair, Spiffy smiled happily with his donkey tongue hanging sloppily out of the side of his mouth, his tail wagging crazily behind him.

“Now that you’ve felt the wrath of my unrelenting Portuguese power, you must submit to my complete control and do exactly as I say, you little unsightly Bichon.”

“I know, I know, I’m under your control. We always play this game. Can’t we try something different? How about who can find and eat the most morsels until the guardians come back. That’s a fun game. It’s fun because we both get full tummies so everybody wins.”

“No, you stupidTiny Bichon. We are going to get the squirrels that hang out in the basement, strutting their stuff. They’ve finally breached the walls and dug their way right up underneath us. But we still have the high ground. This is where we take our dignity back. For too long we’ve been humiliated in the backyard, chasing their furry tails like rainbows, never tasting the glory. Let’s see where they run now, when we have them cornered in the basement. It’s time to take our territory back so I can pee on it.”

“And I can pee on it.”

“No, you may not pee on it. Only very distinguished Portuguese Water Dogs can pee on it. Your frazzled white curls are no match for the rich history of our flowing, shiny black hair. We own the water and now I own you. You are my slave and you will help me kill and eat those meaty squirrels.”

“I guess, but I’m warning you. I’m not very