My dog behaviorist says I have a problem.
She's actually my housecleaner but she's one of those ladies with lots of hats, so by way of proximity to me and my dog she does the canine psychoanalyzing around here. I have a sweet puppy girl who likes to jump on adult dogs. She says that I'm in for it. "You have an Alphabitch" she says.
I'm not sure what that means except that when I show signs of weakness its her job to kill me and take over my pack.
It's nature... its fine.
Besides, once I'm gone and she's in charge my kids are really going to miss me. She's not even legally allowed in a grocery store. Lets see her try to pry open a can of Cambell's Heathy Choice (eye roll) Alphabet soup with those dainty little rat feet. Plus, she'll have probably chewed up all their electronics by then so even screen time will be a real Bit**. (inappropriate snickering).
What all this has me thinking about (aside from hoping my Dad doesn't see all these swear words). Is that I AM THE ALPHABITCH in my life. That's right. It's my job. I'm the boss. Who's the boss? ME.