|and tile floors. he loves tile floors.|
If you've known him for an hour, you realize he's eerily intelligent and always has an agenda.
If you've known him his whole life, you realize the only reason he hasn't taken over the world is his distinct love of naps and vacations.
Without further ado, here are the most important life lessons I've learned from my corgi that also help improve my life.
1) Don't hold their long, ugly legs against them.
Lewis is a quintessential corgi and he thinks the rest of us are strange, unfortunately-gangly-looking creatures. It's a bit like being friends with giraffes: you like them, but they definitely look weird. Despite all that, he's willing to look past our physical abnormalities and scandalous lack of butt-fluff. It doesn't matter what we look like on the outside--we can still be friends.
2) Size is mostly about attitude.
One of my favorite Lewis stories is how the day he came home (at 11 weeks old), he barked down the neighbor's full-grown Rottweiler. It never bothered us again. We see him as big for a Corgi, small-to-medium for a dog. Lewis knows that physical size is almost completely irrelevant and he runs the neighborhood accordingly.
3) Pugs aren't worth the trouble.
|neither are kittens|
While Rottweilers sometimes need to be barked down, nothing can induce Lewis to treat Pugs, Chihuahuas, Pomeranians and their ilk as real dogs. They are irrelevant, nasty snappers and he completely ignores them in all but the most extreme circumstances. Don't let the petty bitches get to you.
4) Go after what you want.
When Lewis goes to my parents' house, he barks at the refrigerator to remind them he gets a treat for showing up. When he's at a picnic, he finds all the children with food in their hands, wags the stubby, and takes the food. He doesn't waste time begging or winning people over. He knows he's worth it, he drives a hard bargain, and he never comes away empty-handed.
5) Lighten the load.
Walks are not Lewis' favorite thing ever. When he does have to go on them, he makes sure to dump off any excess crap he's carrying at least once, and sometimes up to four times. Not only does this make his job easier (as he isn't weighted down by things he doesn't need), it makes the issue of not liking walks someone else's problem. You want to make Lewis work? He'll make sure he isn't working alone.
6) Do a barrel roll.
When Lewis is in the midst of a rowdy game and chase-and-bitey-face with my other creatures, they aren't above body checking his blindside. That could be catastrophic to a long-ugly-legged creature, but Lewis knows just to tuck the drummies, do a barrel roll, and land running.
7) Know your people.
No matter how awesome you are, you're going to have down days and things you're too short to comfortably reach. Keep your people tight, know your pack, and always pay attention to who needs to give you belly rubs now.
|and who you can make stick their nose on a snake first|
Living with a Corgi is an experience unlike any other. It's not so much having a dog in the house as it is sharing your home with another functional adult who just happens to be a lot better looking than you are. They're more human than most people. I always laugh when people debate whether dogs go to heaven.
Dogs go to heaven, indubitably. Corgis, on the other hand, are free to choose their own destiny. The moment you lump corgis with dogs, the Corgi has already won.
Noted: Lewis wanted me to include #8: long bodies have more belly rub acreage, but I pointed out that it wasn't helpful advice to short-bodied people with short-bodied partners.
|one more for good measure|