We've got a boss at our house.
She's a Jack Russell.
Or at least that's what she looks like and acts like. We have no papers to prove. Have no idea where she came from. Who might have abandoned her. If she ran off. If she was dropped off!
But we love her to pieces.
She's very vocal, letting us and the world know that she's the boss.
Protective (oh, my!)
Fearless. (The pint-size thing!)
Has high energy.
She's outgoing and friendly (most of the time)
Has no tolerance for even pretend abuse.
She's territorial to other animals.
And cat aggressive. (Poor Tipper and Simon. She romps with them. Straddles them and proceeds to nip, chase, and box with them.)
Noah, the big collie, is about a million (slight exaggeration) times bigger than Taffy, but just let us decide to play fetch with him. You'd think she was one very angry female. Nipping at his heels and barking fiercely at him. Unless he's in a playful mood (when he lifts his front paw and tries to hold her down--probably thinking "hey, I'm the big one around here!), he ignores her.
Doesn't matter if she has her own bone, if Noah has one, she wants it. She'll sit a little distance off, wait until he's occupied, or turns his head, then darts in to nab it.
She tears out of the house at the sound of anything, barking like she'll tear that monster apart! She hassles poor Mackie to death!
She nudges and pushes and squeezes until she gets Tipper (the cat) off hubby's lap.
She runs to get between any other animal and us. After all, we belong to her! And I've seen her try to stop animal arguments. True!
Sigh. But she's a sweetheart. Can't imagine her not being in our lives.
It takes a lot of things to make you smart, but only one thing to prove you are ignorant. --Don Herott