The Updated Schedule of the Tiny Tyrant

Here at Greenhill Manor, we all live in thrall to the tiny tyrant, and of late, some of the battles of wills have been particularly strong. Each day has a schedule that he expects, and omissions from it are not acceptable. It is also his prerogative to attempt to add to the schedule if said addition might be fun or involve food. Roughly speaking, the schedule is a walk of at least two miles. Said walk must take place in the neighborhood—hikes in the woods of equal distance are unacceptable and subject to constant pulling against the leash to return home and back to the roads. It does not matter if all the sidewalks are too icy and all the roads are too salty. The walk is preferably followed by a run of approximately three miles and tracing much of the same route as the walk—trail runs are unacceptable. Less desirable is the return home for a workout in the basement, in which case, he reserves the right to sit in his Elmo chair and look disdainfully at the exercisers, as shown.

Breakfast follows, and that includes a small pup cup of whipped cream. The family should deliver said pup cup even if they do not make their normal fruit and protein shake but instead make a veggie omelette. Several hours of sleeping then follow, after which, we must head out at lunchtime for a thirty-minute hike. At this time, the woods are acceptable. If a run was not part of the morning run, the hike might be converted to a trail run, in which case, obstacles that are no problem for the alpha but a problem for the leash holder are solely the problem of the leash holder, as shown.

What has traditionally followed are several more hours of sleeping, but of late, the tiny tyrant has attempted to add a game of shovel to the mix, which we residents of Greenhill Manor do not appreciate. What is a game of shovel, you say? We keep a small shovel on the back patio for sundry uses. Ideally, the owner picks it up whereupon the tiny tyrant spins in a circle and growls at it and acts like he might bite it. Failure to play shovel might result in the tyrant remaining outside for an extended period, nose-to-blade with the shovel, refusing to come in, no matter how wet he is getting in rain or snow, as shown.

The evening should include at least one period of hard play in the front room that must end in a zoomie in order to count, as shown.

No zoomie means the play did not happen and must be repeated.

Finally, it is off to bed in which pillow rights are fought over. Whoever is last to bed must engage in a battle with the tiny tyrant over pillows, as shown.

Recently, we owners attempted to allocate a “dog bed” at the bottom of the big bed to the tiny tyrant, which ended badly and in mockery. According to various family members, I should try sleeping in the “dog bed.” If I ever do opt in for the dog bed, I will be sure to post my review of the experience.

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