Rex was lying on his back on the living room floor, watching a spider crawl across the ceiling. He ignored me as I walked in. That pretty well sums up our relationship: I lose out to a spider. I felt like faking him out by whispering “ice cream,” to watch him flip up and over in mid-air and screech into the kitchen and slam into the fridge and await for a treat. That would teach him to ignore me. Come to think of it, it wouldn’t. I’ve been down this road with him before.

“Rex, it would seem to the casual observer that I am only a convenience to you. You come and go as you please, pee on the table leg if I buy discount dog food, and expect me to provide a nice warm bed for you.” Rex continued to ignore me. He had become very adroit in tuning me out. My patience wore thin.

“REX! I am talking to you! I TAKE CARE OF YOU AND PROVIDE FOR YOU! Don’t you have the common decency to at least LOOK like you are interested when I am trying to have a conversation with you?”

Rex got up off the floor and sauntered out into the kitchen without fanfare and slipped out his doggie door. I lost it. “Fine! Fine! Just walk out, like you always do. But don’t come in at diner time with those big brown doggie eyes that say ‘I’m hungry’. If you haven’t got the time of day for me, then fine. FFFIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNE!!!” I peeked out onto the back porch. Rex was calmly observing his domain, the back yard. I fumed. Bested by an animal with a brain the size of a walnut. Rex turned around on the back porch and I hid behind the curtains so he wouldn’t see me.

I decided my next move: I got a big bowl of ice cream and went out onto the back porch and dramatically sat down next to Rex. “MMMMMMM-mmmm. Boy this ice cream is GOOD,” I said to no one in particular. “This is the best Rocky Road I’ve ever had,” I said to no one in particular.

Rex’s next move was unexpected and powerful: he started licking his butt. The social implications were immense. Rex 2, me 0. Not only did he best me again, but I lost my appetite for my ice cream. I sat the bowl down next to me hung my head. He finished his ablutions and returned his gaze to the back yard, ignoring my presence, and noted the odd dragonfly or butterfly that entered his perimeter.

I got up and went inside. I looked out the window to see Rex lapping up my ice cream. “Auuuuugggghhhhh,” I screamed. Rex paused a moment at my outbreak and returned to lick the bottom of the bowl.

I decided to take a walk around the block to cool off. As I shuffled down the sidewalk, I tried to think of a way to get back at him. He always seemed to get the best of me. Maybe I could fake a heart attack in front of him. Maybe I could just not come back for a few days. THAT would show him! I could threaten to take him back to the pound! No. I’ve tried that before, and he danced with glee when I mentioned it. Rats. Nuts. Always one-upped by the owner of a single-digit I.Q.

Perhaps if I just went back and pretended nothing had happened. Yeah! That was it. Just pretend that everything was business as usual. Like it never happened. Like it never, never, ever happened. I composed myself and walked into the living room. There was Rex, on his back, staring at the spider on the ceiling.