Baby

Baby, aka The Diva, Mother Superior, and The Queen Mother (QM) was at her best last night. Wow!

The Dobergirl with the QM personality basically wants what she wants when she wants it. Baby has always had that motto. She is the type of girl who will pick and choose her friends and if you are not on her friend list, then you may not touch her. And if you are on her friend list, and she is not in the mood, you may not touch her. If you are on her friend list, she will undoubtedly want to pull your leg. That goes for dogs.

Now she likes humans, and because she is a Diva, she especially likes men. She has embarrassed me more than once with her flirtatious overtures at men.

I used to take her to the dog park, but that stopped when she decidedly chose another family to buddy up with, and no matter how many times I would go over to her to pull her away, she returned to them. I believe this was retribution for something I may have done to her that she was keeping score on. Because I pretty much was picked by Baby to be her mom. She was the one who jumped into my lap when I was sitting on a sofa and she was charging through the door at warp speed. This was before we were even on a first name basis. But we adopted each other and I will tell you I have never had a better puppy than Baby – ever! And especially right now <cough cough>.

Baby was my first Dobermann, though I’d admired them all throughout my life. My mother was afraid of them, so until her passing, I had other breeds. The closest I could get looks wise to a Dobermann was a Dalmatian. I adored my Brandie Girl, but she was not a Dobermann and she was the hardest puppy I ever had. She was a puppy well into adulthood. Seven years into it! I hope to God that Raven doesn’t break her record. Meanwhile, and once I lived with Baby, I found it easy to adopt and Doberparent more homeless Doberkids.

I do have an Aussie, and love her to pieces. She has a more independent intelligence than my Dobies, and a lot more fur.

But Dobies are the stick-to-my-heart kinda dog.

Because of Baby, I am the mother of a lovely family of Doberkids. I would like to point out here, that if I had adopted Raven as my first Doberchild years ago, I would probably, most likely, OK positively not be writing the same story. Raven is definitely one of those … er … I don’t want to say freaks of nature, er … what is it? She’s a Doberanomaly. Yes, that sounds better. But all the Dobies I have adopted are definitely due to Baby’s magnificent influence.

The Dobies, too, have proven consistent to the breed’s intelligent, dedicated, personable standards. (Until you know who.)

So this brings us to last night. Bedtime. It was the first chilly night of the season, and I asked Baby three separate times (that’s 3) to come to bed instead of sleeping on the sofa. She rolled her eyes at me, ignored me, and shifted on the sofa, so I figured it was not going to happen unless I manhandled her, which isn’t a good thing to do if you want to maintain good relations with a QM. So I went to bed and three other smart Doberkids found their way into the warmth of the bed, as well.

Sometime deep in the night, I would say far after midnight, but hours from sunrise, the QM suddenly decides that she DOES want to be on the bed. She barked at me and chopped her ever-flapping jaws. I told her to leave me alone, and just shut up. Yeah, I know. I have nerve. I’m gutsy when I’m sleeping.

This is how the QM looked, but it was darker in the room and she was right at eye-level by my bed. I took these pictures of her this morning when she wanted her Frisbee NOW. Same attitude, different time of day.

We argued. Baby was persistent and I didn’t want to have to rearrange anyone because of her lack of deference to my good judgment previously. But she IS the QM, so I put another plan into action. That plan involved my having to get up out of bed, which I dredded, but I did it for her sake. I put two (that’s right, 2) dog comforters on the floor for her, and I doubled them, so it was a four-comforter thick comfort bed. I thought that was a fine and comfortable compromise, so told her so and went back to bed.

By the time I was tucked in again, Baby was back chopping at me and giving me what for. She was cold and wanted to be on that bed! “Do you not understand me?” says she.

Yeah, I understood her. I apologized to the “lesser” Dobies, and I say that from Baby’s perspective, not mine, but two of them had to evacuate the bed so Her Highness could stretch out upon their toasty-warm spots. I am so certain that in Baby’s mind, the spots were warmed especially for her until she was ready to take possession of the warm spots.

Baby jumped on the bed, the others found the dog blankeys on the floor appropriate for their use and I got back to doing what I was doing earlier. Sleeping!

Baby settled into sleep and dreamed of beautiful Diva-like things.