My brother and his partner, Laura, just got a new dog. A little girl border collie mix they are naming Dottie. At any rate when I was talking to them about this new dog and how she was settling in I related the story of Roxy joining our home when Crazy Dog was just a little only Crazy Dog; when his life was happy and full of butterflies before Roxy made him more crazy, more codger-y, and full of less butterflies.
I mentioned how when we first got her she basically marched into our house - all 6 pounds of her to Crazy Dog's 17 - and basically shouted to us all by the deliciously evil look she gave the toy box:
ALL THIS STUFF IS NOW MINE AND NOT YOURS.
Crazy Dog got the picture when she attacked his face for trying to take one of "his" toys from the toy box that now (duh) belonged to her, and didn't he get the memo? He did then. It's been mostly peaceful since then.
And that above photo? That was their first meeting when she was TINY OMG and he was all, oh here is this cool stick I'll pick up and she was all, HELL NO DOG! And ran her little hamster-sized body over to Crazy Dog and took it right from him. Websters, we should have known right then.
I was again reminded of this trait of hers - this very unlikable trait - when she found the bag of holiday gifts for the other canines in our family. She found this bag with dog toys meant for Quinn, Cosmo, and Eva, and her brain said only this:
ALL THIS STUFF IS NOW MINE AND NOT YOURS.
And then I took that picture. More here.
And after I took it from her and tried to move it back into the other room, she gave a snarl so vicious to Crazy Dog because, well, he should know he can't stand there and DARE TO THINK about that toy that is HERS.