“Don’t argue with me. I’m your mother.”
The downside of not having kids is that I will never have the chance to present irrationality to them with authority. Sure, I can say it to my dogs, but is it the same, really? Like right now. Bear would like another rawhide chew. But she’s had her limit for the day (+1 because she stole Mindy’s). She’s lying at my feet like the good dog she is, showing me she KNOWS what to do (that’s the “command” actually, “C’mon. You know what to do.”). I could say, “I told you that was the last one. Now don’t argue with me, I’m your mother.”
But I’m not really her mother. We both know it. More to the point, she won’t argue. When I pat her head, the signal that the rawhide chew moment of the day is at an end, she’ll just go to sleep.
In this world we learn to take the bitter with the sweet, and I can make do with her warm soft paw on my
bear bare foot rather than a door slamming in the distance and my child in tears behind it.