Tim had visited quite a few times, and we had established some kind of relationship. He had even taken me for a walk once or twice when my lady was tired or maybe just glad of a break from our usual routine. It was a treat for me, because he walked on different streets and didn’t stop to look at shop windows.
But this was different. Tim had moved in! It wasn’t just his physical presence around so much of the time. It was his clothes in her closet, his shoes and socks under her bed, and the new smells that permeated our place.
But it was the situation in the bedroom that disturbed me the most. I had always slept at the foot of my lady’s bed. Sometimes she’d pull me under the covers with her, hug me and shower me with kisses, and even let me stay next to her all night.
I had even discovered that certain situations led to her wanting me close. Sometimes it was because she was sad. I could feel her hot tears wetting my fur, sometimes she was happy and she’d hold me in the air and we would dance to her happy laughter. Sometimes she would ignore me, and I knew then that it was my job to comfort her. I learned how to be pretty good at that.
But since Tim moved in, things were different. True, he had slept over a few times before. I had been polite enough to our guest to let him have complete privacy. But that didn’t mean I was going to give up my proprietary rights.
When they were getting undressed, I jumped on the bed and waited till they got in. My lady would me pet me and kiss me good night and a few times she and Tim played with me under the covers.
But I couldn’t deal with it when I saw how close they got in bed. Often, they looked as if there were struggling, and I would growl and bark and jump on Tim to protect my lady.
At first Tim would laugh; but when I perfected my strategy to separate them, Tim started to pick me up and put me on the floor. Once or twice, he carried me out of the room. My lady would protest and tell Tim.
"He’ll get used to not being #1." But, will I?