power struggle

Most nights, it's just me and the dog in the livingroom. He grunts and kerfuffles and scrounches around on his rug and I read blogs, research small school statistics and wonder what those thumping noises are coming from the kids' rooms.

He's pretty good company.

Sometime between 10:30 and 11:30, I tell him it's bedtime, and he heaves himself to his feet, gives me a long, sorrowful Lab look, and leaves the room. Next, I hear him floof!ing down in his crate in the next room with a heavy sigh. When I go through the kitchen , I shut the crate door, and then he's all tucked in until morning.

Well, that's how it usually goes.

Tonight, he came back out from the kitchen and whined. Now Jasper and I have a routine of bathroom breaks, and he should NOT have had to go at that hour, but still....he whined. I was three-quarters of the way through finding my shoes and grabbing his leash (because the I's gonna 'splode whine sounds verah much like the I still kinda have digestive troubles whine, and NO ONE wants to mix the two up.) when I realized he wasn't looking anxiously at the front door.

Jasper was facing the kitchen.

Hmm. This was new.
I walked in, flicked on the light, and saw instantly that there has been a power shift in my household.

And there doesn't seem to be any chance of a reversal. Sorry, Jasper.

 *Alternate title: Please, Mom? Let me fillet him once? Stoopid dog.*