If it’s mine it’s mine.
If it’s yours it’s mine.
If I like it is mine.
If I can take it from you it is mine.
If I am playing with something ALL of the pieces are mine.
If I think it is mine it is mine.
If I saw it first it’s mine.
If I had it then put it down it is still mine.
If you had it then you put it down it is now mine.
An extract from Murphy’s Laws for Toddlers, this describes our dog Willa to a T.
Willa can normally be found lying peacefully by my husband’s side. Her loyalty to my husband is so unwavering she will follow him from room to room. Now that she is firmly in the realm of being a senior dog, Willa is content to sleep her days away. By the twitching of her feet and the low grumble in throat I am lead to believe she is busy keeping wayward animals in check in her dreams.
However, Willa immediately awakes, alert and focused if one of our other dogs, normally Moe, is playing with something – anything – from a toy, to a sock, to a rock or a stick. Murphy’s Laws for Toddlers will kick in and our sweet, placid Willa will turn into what we call “Evil Willa”. Eyes narrowed to slits, lowered into a crouch, with lightning speed she will dart out and snag her “quarry”. Despite the fact that this behavior is quite routine, Moe is always shocked into stunned paralysis by the approaching Willa. With a “deer in the headlights” look, Moe invariably drops the object he has been carrying. This sequence of events happens so quickly that Willa will often catch the dropped object before it hits the ground and before Moe has had a chance even to close his mouth. Moe is left with what can only be described as a “gobsmacked” look.
Once captured, the toy, sock, towel will be paraded around in front of the surprised and bereft Moe. Sometimes she actually thrusts her prize into his face, taunting him. Once that victory lap is done the serous work of guarding her purloined booty starts. The treasure is added to the pile of other items that are stashed beside our bed, where she sleeps, or for special security tucked neatly under “her side” of the bed.
Mission accomplished, Willa can once more concentrate on shadowing my husband and on herding wayward animals in her dreams.