Royal snit

The groomer came yesterday when I was at work. When I got home, I knew Queeni wasn't happy about things when I received only a one-dog slobber salute. HRH was in our bed, under the covers with the air-conditioning on, and emerged only to shriek about all the indignities that she was subjected to.

Then she went into a sulk so prolonged that it was beyond anything I had ever seen, even for a Schnauzer, a breed notorious for its stubbornness.

She spent all night sitting upright in her crate, glowering. When it came to bed time, she refused to go with us into the bedroom -- this is the dog who's such an air-conditioning slut that she is the first to dash into the room as soon as it is turned on, and hog the bed.

She stayed out in the living room all night. I thought she'd give up and come in to bed when I turned off all the lights. Nope. Her will was greater. When I last checked on her, she had annexed Rupert's crate, which is roomier than hers, and was stretched out comfortably.

But L reported that when he checked on her, she was sitting upright in the dark. Glowering. And he got out of bed to check on her every two hours or so, he couldn't sleep without a Schnauzer-sized bump in our bed.

Clearly, she was punishing him, seeing him as the traitor who let in the groomer. I was just collateral damage.

The punishment continued into this morning. She wouldn't get out of the crate even though she obviously needed to pee. She'll usually come running up to the door when I put Rupert's leash on him as she can't stand to be left out. Not this time. When I came back after walking him, I rang the doorbell, thinking that it would surely get her out of the crate. She did bark furiously at the ring, but from the depths of the crate. She's smarter than me.

Finally, I abandoned my golden rule of not molesting any dog that's gone into its crate because it's its sanctuary, and L tipped it on its slide and she slithered reluctantly out. And she still refused to have anything to do with him, she came up to me and clearly indicated that I was the chosen one to walk her. Even though L usually takes her while I take Rupert when we walk the two together -- she is daddy's girl while Roop is mummy's boyo.

And so I retraced the route I had taken earlier with Rupert, my second walk of the morning with the second dog. I was being punished as well as L. She only acknowledged L somewhat when he set her lunch dish down.

I'm sure it's not over yet and that this is going to be a long drawn out soap opera of a Schnauzer dog story.