"Come here Willy"

"Come here Willy"

That is all my husband has to say.

With a particular tone of voice.

No matter where he, I or Willow (AKA Willy) are, Willow will run to me and hide behind my legs.

He has conditioned her (think Pavlov) by saying that phrase and then torturing her when she would come to him.

Now wait, hold the phone, before you call the humane society on us, let me define "torture" for you.

By "torture" I mean Stephen putting his t-shirt on her (after which she will run to me knowing I will take it off).

By "torture" I mean Stephen holding her face and barking at her.

By "torture" I mean Stephen fitting one of his dirty socks over her nose.

By "torture" I mean Stephen telling Willow to jump on him and then holding on to her front legs and making her dance.

This is why, the smart dog, runs to me when Stephen says "Come here Willy" at which point I tell him to leave her alone.

Lilo on the other hand

(This ridiculous dog, just in case you forgot)


receives the same "torture" but loves every minute of it.

That's why she is Stephen's dog and Willow is mine.

The end.