Our chihuahua, Merlin the Magician, is in a combative mood. Don’t let the dog drool fool you.

I am fierce. Sleepy, but fierce.

Anyway, while Merlin insists that he will destroy me, I hold him down on his back. And let him growl.

Me: I am Alpha Dog! You will listen to me! I am Alpha Dog!

Merlin: Grrr. Grr. Ruff! Grrrr.

Isabella (she’s 8): Daddy, since you’re doing this on my bed, aren’t I also an Alpha Dog?

Me: No, Honey. I am in charge. He has to learn that. Just like you respect that I am the boss in this family, Merlin will respect my authority.

Iz: Um, Daddy. Respect…. Funny. No. You’re not the boss of me.

Me: Yes I am. I’m Daddy. I am totally in charge. I am the Alpha Dog.

Iz: But, if I snuggle up on your chest and hug you tight and squeeze your neck… really tight, am I also an Alpha Dog? Whaddya say?

Me: Ow! Ok… Yes. Alpha.

Iz: Also, you’re fat.

[BTW, my daughter is not homicidal. Though the “you’re fat” line is a direct quote.]