You. Dogs. Sit. I said SIT. Meg, Jasmine . . . SIT. Thank you.

There's something we need to discuss. It's not complicated, so hopefully you will understand.

Jasmine--eyes on me.

I don't know what has gotten into you two, but it needs to stop. When I'm standing, I occupy approximately 2 square feet of the floor. STAY OUT OF MY TWO FEET. It's mine. My space.

My legs are a little long . . .

Meg--quit snorting and pay attention.

My legs are a little long, so when I'm walking, I need about 6 square feet of the floor. How about you two monkeys clear a path and stay the hell out of my way?

The next one of you that rams into the back of my legs, trips me, smacks me with their butt--Jasmine, that means you--or blocks my path is getting a one way ticket to the vets office. I'm not bluffing. You will become the vets in-house pet. 24/7 at the vet. That will be your life.

Get out of my space. NOW.