I’ll be the first to admit that her floppy ears and doe-eyed gaze are irresistible, but when man’s best friend is stealing the spotlight from man’s girlfriend, we have a serious problem. I love my boyfriend’s dog, but is it too much to ask that I get the same amount of attention as her? I won’t give the classic “it’s me or the dog” ultimatum, just throw me a metaphorical bone here.
- She gets the first greeting when my boyfriend gets home. As soon as he walks through the door, he rolls around the floor with her, showers her with kisses, and picks her up for an epic bear hug. By the time he gets around to greet me, he’s literally exhausted all of his energy. I get a peck on the lips (while she’s still resting on his hip like a toddler) and he’s off to the bedroom to change. On one hand, I’m getting a sneak peek into the kind of doting father he’ll be someday, which is adorable; on the other, I want to be the one that’s picked up and showered with kisses, dammit! Rolling on the floor would be nice too if you know what I mean.
- She sleeps between us in bed. She even sleeps under the covers… horizontally. Her hot doggie breath is not the kind of steam I’m looking for between the sheets, you guys. I get approximately three inches of space on the bed and if I try to move her, she gives me serious side-eye. The first few nights I spent with him, she chewed on my arm for a solid three hours. She only stopped out of sheer exhaustion.
- We only go on dog-friendly vacations. I love getting away with my boyfriend and it doesn’t really matter where we go, as long as we’re together. But just as parents take kid-free getaways, we should prioritize vacation time without our four-legged, attention-craving sidekick. Whenever we take a weekend trip, it has to be within driving distance and to a dog-friendly hotel. Is she secretly a detachable body part of his that I’m unaware of?
- The dog has ruined the mood more times than I can count. When we start to fool around on the couch, she either stands creepily in the corner to watch like a possessed dog from Pet Sematary or jumps up on the couch thinking it’s play time. Obviously, we both feel weird and attempt to move to the bedroom, to which we are followed, and just like that, the moment is gone. She’s the canine version of a cock block and it’s actually the worst.
- Our dates are always cut short because he has to get home to her. We’ve never stayed out past 10 p.m. Ever. If we ever plan to, I would bet you a hundred bucks that he’d hire a dog sitter. He glances at his watch every five minutes to make sure that we aren’t gone longer than he promised her. Does he think she can tell time?
- He doesn’t have the heart to punish her and will give me the cold shoulder if I do. God forbid I forget to speak to her in a gentle, high-pitched tone. He practically accuses me of animal abuse. What he doesn’t know is that I sneak her pieces of my dinner under the table, give her 20-minute massages when he’s away, and turn a blind eye when she chews on his wallet. But if she chews my shoes, you bet I’ll be raising my voice.
- He posts more photos of the two of them together on social media than us. Seriously, who are you dating here, dude? His Instagram account is filled with selfies at the dog park, selfies on the couch and, most notably, the glamorous portraits of her staring longingly out the window. When he finally does post a picture of us, I have a double chin or frizzy hair. She’s way prettier than me.
- She gets more of a birthday celebration that I do. We celebrate the day she was born (which he picked at random because she’s a rescue) AND the day she was adopted. She gets a princess hat, dog-friendly ice cream and a trip to the fanciest dog park in town. When it’s my birthday, I have to drag him out of the house to dinner. As he leaves, she looks down at the ground like one of the shelter puppies from the ASPCA commercials. He has a 10-minute conversation with her about how quickly he’ll be back. Can you sense that I’m rolling my eyes?
- I’m pretty sure she’s jealous of me too. OK, so I don’t speak dog, but I’m fairly certain that she feels the same way I do. I get the evil eye from her when I cuddle up too close to him and she uses her nose to separate us when we’re holding hands. One time she left her jagged bone in the precise spot that I step off the bed in the morning. She knew exactly what she was doing and might even be plotting to kill me. In a way, I feel for her because we’re going through the same thing. Then I remember that I’m the human.
