My Couch to Die On

In a lot of ways, I’m easy to get along with. I’m a people-pleaser; I almost always do what’s asked of me. And 99 times out of 100, I’m appreciated for that.

But this . . . this is one thing I refuse to relinquish. Is it so much to ask for a bit of comfort, a bit of relaxation? I’m happy to stay quiet, to mind my own business and not bother anyone else. Why can’t she treat me with the same courtesy?

She stands over me, hovering, glaring. God, I hate that look. But I’m taking a stand, so to speak. I won’t let her take this from me; I deserve this!

“Come on, Charlie!” she says, giving me a little push. But I refuse to move. I can be quite stubborn when I want to be. When she realizes she can’t physically move me, she tries bribery - my favorite food. I admit that I’m tempted, but I stay firm. I’ve claimed my prize, and she won’t take it from me!

“Charlie, this isn’t like you!” she insists. She sounds hurt, like I’ve disappointed her. It almost breaks me. “Why are you being so stubborn?” My only reply is a small whimper. I don’t want to upset her, but I don’t think I’m asking for that much. I’m not being unreasonable, especially not when you consider how I’m normally treated around here!

“Really?” she says finally, her hands on her hips. “This is the hill you want to die on?”

I tilt my head as if I don’t know what she’s talking about, but she knows I understand.

She huffs at me, but I can see the slight smile on her face that tells me I’ve won. “You’re lucky you’re so cute,” she says as she leans over and scratches me behind the ears. “I don’t know why I bother trying to enforce the ‘No dogs on the furniture’ rule.”