We know who the top dog is in that house.
Personally I'd never let a dog do that or even be on the couch unless it asked and was invited first.
That dog is so spoiled. In all seriousness, that was one of the early signs of Dad’s mental decline - he treated the dog like a baby, which was completely out of character for him.
Growing up, dogs weren’t even allowed in the house - they stayed outside 24/7/365. They sure didn’t sleep in the bed with him or ride in the car with him or sit right up on his shoulder, but that’s what this one did, and he’d get angry if you teased him about it.
I know I’ve told it before, but in a hasty moment, he took the dog to a shelter and turned him in, then had second thoughts and went back for him the next day, and the shelter wouldn’t give him back. Dad camped out in protest at the shelter, yelling at everyone, called his lawyer, and was calling (or had already called) the local media, who love stories like that, before they yielded and gave him back.
This from a man who would casually shoot any dog deemed a pest or a danger without a second thought.
My best Gomer story is when they went to Walmart, and my dad’s habit, all his adult life, was to sit in the car and listen to radio or nap while my mom shopped, so when they’d gotten the dog, Dad started carting it around with him and it would just hang out in the back seat.
For whatever reason, Dad thought it would be a hoot to take Gomer into Walmart and just turn him loose, just to watch the chaos, and to watch Gomer running around like a psycho - the kind of prank a 10yo would pull.
In a store that size…Gomer found my mom, and when my mom saw him, she thought something terrible had happened to Dad, and that Gomer was coming to tell her, Lassie-style, so she was in the middle of the store shouting, “WHAT IS IT, GOMER?!?! WHAT’S WRONG?!?! WHAT’S HAPPENED TO DEL?!?! IS HE HURT?!?! TELL ME, GOMER!!! TELL ME!!!”