Can a child really be worse than a dog?

I consider myself to be very lucky to have such a laid back dog. I am one of those smug owners who says things like "oh he never chewed anything as a puppy" and "he was toilet trained by about 12 weeks" and all of these things were true (aside from the one time he woke up before I did and smeared poo all along the bottom of the bed..). Alvin was perfectly content to follow people about in the hopes he might be able to steal offered tidbits of food and was rarely concerned with anything else.

As he's grown up (he's a mature 5 going on 6 year old now) his "quirks" have slowly come to light. My lovely, laid back, pink nosed pup has turned into a manipulative, scheming adult dog so gradually I almost didn't notice. For example:

This is a picture of Alvin, with black socks. Of mud. This is the dog that hates water (unless they're puddles) refuses a bath, won't go in the sea for fear of getting a teensy bit wet but obviously loves mud. I attempted a bathing operation after this picture was taken but the minute you lift him up and over a bath he throws his head back and wriggles as much as he can, you're lucky his flailing limbs don't knock you out or at the very least give you a black eye or broken nose. This dog's head hurts when it hits you, trust me. If you even say "Alvin, do you want a bath?" he does legs and is nowhere to be seen for at least half an hour. As a result, Alvin doesn't get bathed. Ever. And I had to change my light coloured carpet for laminate flooring. Alvin = win.

Me? Chewing up an important part of the strimmer? A piece that right now, Tommy is hunting for? Never! Alvin = win.

The master of manipulation right there! Alvin has always slept in my bed, right from the very beginning (he was the whiniest puppy ever if you were mean enough to make him sleep in his own bed). But since Tommy isn't the hugest dog person, Alvin is "supposed" to be relegated to his own bed. As he is in fact now an adult and not a puppy, you can tell Alvin to "get in his bed" and he very grudgingly does what he's told. Until you fall asleep. Then he uses all the skills he has honed over his 5 years to sneak artfully into the bed between the two humans where its warmest, place his head on a pillow which, lets face it, is rightfully his anyway, and snore his little doggy heart out. Alvin = win.

This is the sad dejected look you get if you catch him sitting on the windowsill. I know, he looks so hard done by! I don't mind him rubbing his dirty, snotty nose marks on my clean windows looking out and people watching if that was all he was up to. Trust me, behind that cute facade is a menace to the neighbourhood. Whether you look at him or not, even if you have no intention of coming up the garden path, if you walk into Alvin's line of sight when he's sitting angelically on his my windowsill he will turn into a growling, spitting, hair raised mentalist of epic proportions. Despite not being allowed on the windowsill, this is his preferred seat of choice in the house. No matter how many times I tell him to get down I turn my back and there he is, sitting like butter wouldn't melt. Alvin = win.

Finally, when he is worn out from his daily escapades, he settles on the dog bed sofa and relaxes contentedly. With his tongue out. And yes, I do wear odd socks.

So seriously, surely a child can't be harder work than keeping this unruly dog in check. In fact, I'm willing to bet my son will be so perfectly well behaved immediately from birth I'll have no need for this blog, like ever. Right?

Gemma xx