We have heard the word diva used to describe musicians and actresses, but what exactly is a diva? Diva has become such a common, over-used word that it can even be found plastered on the bums of sweatpants worn by little girls.
So, I am not being capricious when I say that Molly Muffin, my ten pounds schnauzer poodle mix, is a diva.
She sleeps with her head on my plush, ridiculously-expensive, ergonomically-designed pillow. In fact, she will not sleep on any other pillow.
She likes to have her fur dried with a blow drier when she comes back from a walk in the snow or rain.
A few times a day, she brings her toy and drops it at my feet. If I do not pay heed, she will nudge it closer to me. If I still do not respond, she will move close to me and stare with a haughty, imperial gaze. She does not cower, does not back down. Her gaze is unflinching, her stance determined until it is simply impossible for me to ignore her summons.
When we are all watching television, she likes to sit curled up on my lap. If I do not accommodate her, she will climb up on the top of the couch cushions and perch as if atop a throne. Like a true monarch, she positions herself higher than her minions. She regally surveys the scene, her nose in the air.
Even though she is one high-maintenance bitch, she gives far more pleasure than she ever takes.