When I saw him for the very first time, he was only three-months old.

I must have scared him out of his wits because he was shaking and trembling all over. Silly boy! I would never have done anything mean to a little, stupid puppy! If he had been older, it would have been different story.

His name was Snoopy, but we changed that to “Schnoopel.” Somehow, “Schnoopel” fit him better, and when he stayed at our house, that’s what we called him. He spent many, many days, even months, with us as a houseguest.

When his guardians needed to go away, they would leave Schnoopel with us. And to tell you the truth, he didn’t mind that arrangement a bit! Well, why should he? He slept on the bed, used the most comfortable armchair for naps, and jumped up and down on the couch, I suspect purely to annoy me. And he had the same meal of chicken with rice and broth that I enjoyed every day for dinner.

Schnoopel was a cheerful mutt, and he always kept this irritating smile on his face. But in my opinion, as far as his looks were concerned, there was nothing to smile about.   He had a white coat with brownish spots and a tail like an outsized plume. That big tail got him in trouble once. There was a lit candle on a low table, and Schnoopel’s tail caught fire!

Call 9-1-1! Quick! Dog on fire!

Well, he wasn’t hurt or anything, but we certainly had a little excitement.

But let’s go back to the subject of many of Schnoopel’s visits to our house. I suddenly realized that, little by little, he started to invade my territory. I knew that I must do something about it. Take a stand. Defend what’s mine. Show him who THE DOG is in the household.

After a few hours of planning, I knew exactly what to do. As a penalty for Schnoopel’s shameless sucking up to everybody, I decided to pinch his cheeks. This is a mildly painful punishment, and it leaves no traces–which is a good thing.

Next, to teach him a lesson about who THE MASTER was, I decided to lie across the garden door in such a way that Schnoopel wouldn’t be able to enter the house. And of course, I knew that he would not dare to jump over me, which was rather a wise decision on his part.

And, if playing in the backyard became too exhausting for me, and Schnoopel would insist on going on, I would just sit on him and I am, believe me, pretty heavy!

Well, I did those nasty things many times, but Schnoopel kept smiling. He remained the “nice dog” that everybody liked.

Darn it! What to do?

I was worried. My plan hadn’t worked the way that I hoped it would.

His longest visit was the full four months that he spent with us when his guardians were expecting a baby. I just don’t understand people. What is the big fuss about having a baby? We dogs give birth to a whole bunch of puppies, not just one, and nobody pays much attention to those events. But anyway, it was decided that for the time being, Schnoopel would stay with us.

Well, I didn’t want to incite him to revolt, but the truth was that while Schnoopel had been banished from his own home, the three cats–Mercury, Zoe, and Raz–stayed in. This seemed to me to be extremely unfair to Schnoopel, even though he actually enjoyed staying with us.

I personally do not like cats. I don’t know much about them, and have never met one “nose to nose.” I can’t even imagine how I would have behaved in such a situation. But with Schnoopel, that was a different story. Those cats were his friends. I heard that he even let Zoe sleep on his doggy bed. Unheard of!

If you missed reading the previous chapter, see A Visit to Forget.