Scarlett Needs A Trip To The Woodshed! Or At Least To The Rolled-Up-Magazine Side Porch.

Scarlett is in the dog house! Figuratively, though I hope she is also there literally, since it's a cold night. Farmer H, whom she ADORES, has done her no favors by favoring her. She needs some tough love. I know Scarlett is a high-spirited pooch. She has stopped running into the house. She mostly keeps her paws off of us when she's leaping and hopping as we walk. But now, SHE HAS INTERFERED WITH MY LITTLE JACK!!!

Farmer H feeds the dogs every morning before he leaves. He has been the one to dole out their special evening treats of hamburger-grease-soaked bread during the cold snap. I put the pieces on separate paper plates, because I know Scarlett will steal Jack's treat. I gave Farmer H specific instructions.

"Jack was in Juno's house just a while ago. So if he's in there, just set his plate inside. He gets three pieces. Scarlett gets the one with four, because she's a bigger dog. Then bring the plates in, because Jack might eat them."

Well. The second evening, I asked Farmer H what took so long.

"I handed them out one at a time, so Scarlett wouldn't take Jack's."

Okay. That was a good move on Farmer H's part. Tuesday was a little warmer, and I was out of grease bread. But the night gets cold. The dogs need energy to burn to stay warm. When Farmer H came out to the garage to carry in groceries, I told him to give the dogs each half a bowl of regular dog food.

Their bowls are separate. Scarlett's is on the side porch, next to the people-door of the garage. Jack's is on the other section of porch, across the steps from Scarlett's bowl. The bowls used to be side-by-side, but Scarlett would nudge Jack out of his bowl.

Farmer H poured the dog food, then carried bags inside. I got the remaining bags, and saw Scarlett run over to Jack's bowl as he started crunching his food. Jack immediately went to Scarlett's bowl. Scarlett ran back and shouldered Jack out of the way. He returned to his food bowl. Barely got a mouthful when Scarlett was back shoving him away. Jack went back to Scarlett's bowl. This continued about five times as I was climbing the four steps to the porch.

When I hollered at Scarlett, she would stop momentarily and look guilty. That gave Jack time to get a bite before she was pushing him away from whatever bowl again. POOR JACK! No wonder Scarlett is getting hefty, and Jack is trim.

I laid out a junk mail advertiser, and told Farmer H to use it to swat Scarlett when she knocks Jack away from the food bowl. 

"Maybe THAT will get her attention! She's a bully. Better yet, I think you should call Scarlett down to the garage when you're getting out the food. She'll come in, because she ADORES you. Feed her there. Then real quick, close her in while you're giving Jack his food. Let him have time to eat, then let Scarlett out. Otherwise, Jack is going to starve, and Scarlett will weigh two tons!"

I cannot tolerate a dog bully. Even my Dear Departed Sweet Sweet Juno knew my wrath, when she dared to bare her teeth at my little Jack, and grab his treats.