You see, Maggie is the other woman in his life – the woman to whom he coddles, talks baby talk, and can never, ever say no. Not to mention that this is coming from a man who didn’t want a dog to begin with.
He treats Maggie like a delicate little flower, when the truth is she's one tough little bitch. We aren’t talking about a toy poodle here people. I think the appropriate visual is more along the lines of a rugby Prop Forward. Not to mention that her upper lip is often caught on one of her front teeth, something we like to call the Elvis lip.
I don’t mind sharing the love - after all, my son likes to call me the Pug Whisperer. The problem is that lately I’ve noticed Tom is trying to use some of his “Maggie moves” on me.
For example, if I tell him about something cool that happened at work, he might shout out “Good girl!” and give me a vigorous head rub. Occasionally he has even called me Maggie – wouldn’t Freud have a field day with that one!
The best advice my Dad ever gave me was “Always remember that men will only treat you the way you allow yourself to be treated.” Very wise advice indeed, yet I’m not really sure as to how it applies to this particular situation.