Mom's end of the couch
Wednesday, December 28, 2005 at 08:57AM 
My end of the couch is very popular with the dogs. When Ivy was a puppy and for the first two years of her life, we would snuggle on the couch together in the evenings--Ivy and me on my end of the couch, Tom on his end of the couch. And every day until I hit the couch in the evening, it was her royal throne. Mom's end of the couch.
Since we got Eve in February, there has been an interesting competition for mom's end of the couch. Ivy, by virtue of her position as first dog in the house, claims it as her own. Eve, by virtue of her advanced age and general wanting to be in constant contact with me, not to mention the fact that it is Ivy's favorite spot, desires it above any other resting place. And so it begins--the daily wrangling for position.
Have I ever told you how smart Ivy is? Vizslas are, in my opinion, the smartest breed of dog in the world and Ivy is the smartest Vizsla. She not only thinks, she problem-solves. She plots. She plans. Mostly what she plots and plans is how to get mom's end of the couch.
If ever Eve manages to get the coveted position, Ivy swings into action. There are many tactics. I will share a few.
Eve is on the couch. Ivy goes and gets Eve's favorite bone and chews it on the other end of the couch, just long enough for Eve to notice. Once Eve's attention is gained, Ivy lets the bone fall to the floor, Eve hops down to retrieve it; Ivy gets mom's end of the couch.
Eve is on the couch. Ivy sets up a diversion--barking like a mad dog on squirrel alert. Eve hops down to see what is going on in the sunroom; Ivy circles back immediately and gets mom's end of the couch.
Eve is on the couch. Ivy runs to the kitchen and dings the dog dish until I fill the water bowl. Eve comes out to see what is going on in the kitchen. Ivy never drinks a drop of water, runs to the living room and gets mom's end of the couch. Eve empties the bowl and wonders how she lost mom's end of the couch.
Eve is on the couch. Ivy gets up and dings the bell on the front door, asking to go out and go potty. Eve hops down as I open the door; Ivy gets mom's end of the couch. Eve finds herself standing in the front yard, wondering why she had to go out when she didn't really have to go potty in the first place.
Eve is on the couch. Ivy steals something that belongs to someone in the family--a sock, an oven mitt, a dish towel and runs joyfully through the house until someone notices. Mom goes into action--"You rotten dog, give me that fill in the blank." Eve jumps down to see what all the commotion is about, Ivy immediately drops whatever it is she stole and circles back to mom's end of the couch.
I don't think it really is my end of the couch. . .
