Tug of War

After hopping through the snow for an hour, Shea was not quite tired yet. The guy is fur ball of energy! So, I picked up an old shirt that we like to play tug of war with.

Shea is becoming a better dog everyday. He is certainly on his way to the greatness Jeff so desires. With that, a big rule in portraying dominance over a dog, is to never lose at a game of tug of war. I mean never! Jeff has reiterated this to me several times. I can only play if I win. So, I started up the game with every intention winning.

I swung Shea around, he thrashed his head violently. This is how the games usually go. I was close to winning the game a few minutes after it started when Shea lost his grip on the shirt. In a panic to reclaim part of the fabric, he accidently, yes, I know it was accidently, got a hold of my finger. It wasn't bad, just a little knick, but I could see that it began bleeding right away. In my head, I heard Jeff's voice saying, "you cannot lose!" That was all the motivation I needed. I kept tugging and pulling, knowing I could not lose.

The longer we played, the further the blood moved down my arm. I didn't care. I had a goal. I need to keep that position of dominance I have worked so hard to gain over Shea.

About eight minutes into our game, I decided I needed to end it. I didn't want blood to drip on the carpet. So, I began tugging my hardest. I put all of my weight into it, and Shea returned the favor, getting down low for more power. As I pulled in one direction and he in another, the shirt faltered. It ripped in half. Oh crap! Does that count as a win?

I ended up with the bigger piece of the shirt. In my book, that is a victory. However, I'm not sure what goes on in Shea's world. What do you think? Did I win? I guess I will find out tomorrow depending on whether he tries to hump me or not.