So My Dogs are Complete Assholes...

I decided to sit down and write this piece because I'm at my wit's end with my dogs. Simply put, they're complete assholes. Both of them. To me and to each other. Let me give you their backstories before I tell you why they're jerks.

Roofio is my dog originally. I got him my last semester in college when he was just a puppy. He's a dark brindle boxer but he's a good bit larger than most boxers. He's now 7-years-old. He doesn't do his business in the house, ever. He's got a doggy door that he uses that goes out onto our deck and into a fenced-in portion of our back yard. He only listens to me and he's so big that he often gets in the way.

Beckham is the other one, the little one. He's a shih tzu and he is originally my wife's dog. She got him when he was just a baby as well. He's smaller than most shih tzus and he's grey and white. He's now 6-years-old. He rarely does his business anywhere but inside the house. He's well-aware of the doggy door and I've watched him use it several times. He doesn't listen to anyone and he's under the impression that he's in charge. So now that you know a little about them, let's dive right into why they're just awful, four-legged, dick heads.

When my wife and Beckham moved in with Roofio and I, Beckham quickly became the dominant of the two dogs. This pissed me off as Roofio is more than ten times Beckham's size and could easily end him whenever he felt like it. But nooooo, he lets the little jerk boss him around and backs down from him at any sign of conflict. It's probably better that way because my wife would probably be upset if my dog killed her dog. I just watched in defeat as my big, intimidating best friend got bossed around by a six pound ball of fluff. At first, I tried to encourage Roofio, tried to give him pep talks like a trainer would give to a human boxer in between rounds. "C'mon bro. Don't take that shit from him. Just smack him once. Send him flying across the room. He won't mess with you after that." He'd just give me that side-eyed look, because he must have been too ashamed to look directly at me. Or maybe it was because he's dog and he's got no clue what I'm saying. Either way, he just took it on the chin and went about his business.

They would butt heads a good bit early on, Roofio always being the one to retreat. I had gotten over it and actually started to like the little bully. He was definitely a prick but that's what I like about him. Little dude has personality. He and I have become close but not as close as he and Roofio have become and that's where the problem lies.

Each one is a fairly big asshole on their own. Beckham only hears you when he wants to. He barks at you until you figure out whatever the hell it is that he wants, and he only poops and/or pees outside when he feels like it. The only time he feels like it is when the weather is just right. It can't be raining. It can't be snowing. It can't be cold but it also can't be too hot. If it's not sunny and seventy-five, he's taking a shit in the kitchen and a piss in the dining room. The worst part is, you can't catch him in the act. He's not stupid. He knows exactly what he's doing and he knows he's not supposed to be doing it. He also knows I won't yell at him or hit him if I don't actually catch him doing it because I read somewhere you shouldn't do that, because the dogs don't understand. He watches me while I clean it up. This twisted little son-of-a-bitch smiles at me as I hold his warm turds in my hand with a napkin to flush them down the toilet.

Roofio comes after me in a whole different way. He listens to and obeys me without question. He also waits until I open the fridge, stands behind me, and when I back up to close it, trips me and sends me tumbling to the floor. It's happened too many times for it to be a coincidence. He also waits for me to lay down in bed and then he comes and sits on the floor by my side of the bed. He gets about a foot from my face and licks his jaws in the most annoying, relentless way. It's impossible to ignore. I know he does it on purpose because every time he does it, I get up out of bed and get him a bone or a treat. It's literally the only way to make him stop. If that wasn't enough, he snores so loudly that it actually wakes me up and his farts have honest-to-God made me throw up in my mouth. Mind you, he only farts when we all go into the bedroom at night. I hear him fart and then he lifts his head and looks up at me and smiles. Same shit-head smile his little companion gives me.

Now, both of them do all of this on their own. They've lived together long enough at this point and they've gotten pretty comfortable with each other. They actually even like each other. So there's this screwed-up form of team work going on and I don't like it. My wife thinks I'm crazy but I know what's going on in my own house. The little one is definitely the brains of the operation. You can't tell me that when the big one gets food off the counter or from the trash, something he hasn't done in years, it isn't because the little one convinced him to and that they don't share in the spoils. It's also rather ironic that when I get home from work, and something is destroyed or they've gotten into something they weren't supposed to, that I find them both conveniently just waking from a peaceful nap, cuddled together, as if they'd been there all day.

They're conspiring against me. They've joined forces. Just the other day we got a new a couch. My wife and I decided we weren't going to allow the dogs on the new couch. We purchased a gate to go in between the living room and dining room. It's a bigger gate, with a door that opens and closes. It's big enough that we were able to make it actually come into the living room, so that they would still be able to be close to us when we were in there, they just wouldn't have access to the furniture. I began to feel guilty as I sat on the couch and watched TV and they laid on the floor. They both have their own dog beds but we keep those in the bedroom because that's where they sleep. So I decided I was going to get them new beds that they could lay on in the living room because to be honest, I'm too lazy to move the ones they already have back and forth from the bedroom.

Well, Beckham already had two beds, so I went and got Roofio a new one. I brought it home and gave it to him and he seemed extremely happy with it. Since he was happy, I was happy. Beckham had his extra bed out there already so now they both had a comfy place to lay since they couldn't lay on the couch. I go to bed that night and the little one starts raising hell, barking and barking non-stop. I tried to give him a treat. I checked to see if he had water. Still, when I laid back down he went back into his tirade. I couldn't figure out what he wanted. I got up again and looked around. His bed that we kept in the bedroom was gone. I looked at Roofio, who was laying comfortably in his, not interested in Beckham or me. So I start looking all over the house, checking everywhere I can think of. I couldn't find the bed. My wife says she had no idea where it was, either. Well, finally I give up and go get his bed from the living room and bring it into the bedroom so he'll shut his mouth and I can go to sleep.

On my way home from work the next day, being the good dad that I am, I stop and get him another bed. I bring it home and set it down on the floor in the living room next to Roofio's. He jumps in it and spins around in circles and rubs his face all over it, just happy as can be. Well, last night my wife wanted to switch the rug in our bedroom. The one both of the dogs' beds lay on. So I reach down and pick up Beckham's bed and toss it off to the side. I reach down, pick up Roofio's much larger bed to toss it off to the side, and what do I find? Beckham's old bed! The same one that I had searched for but never found. So it mysteriously ended up underneath of the big one and that's not sketchy at all? These little fur covered con-artists played me! The little one saw that the big one got a new bed, and decided he wanted a new bed, too. So what do they do? They come up with a genius plan and hide the old bed from me practically in plain sight! I'm not sure if I'm more pissed off that they did it or that it worked!

You don't have to believe me. My wife doesn't. But my dogs are criminals and they're assholes. They've been man-handling me for months and now they've made me look crazy for figuring it out. I'm currently trying to devise a counter strike. If anyone would like to help or offer suggestions, drop me an email. They may have won the last several battles, but they will not win the war!