Doing what he likes best

In the interests of being fair, I thought Wellington needed introducing.
He was one of 'The Magnificent Seven'; all-black puppies born around the corner from us, so he frequently gets to play with his mum and sister and assorted aunts and uncles kept by his breeder.
Since his arrival in the household last year, he has remodelled the kitchen, read every book in the bookshelf several times, (well, for what other possible reason could he have scattered them across the floor, ripping pages out in the process?) and chewed through the seat belt in a two-week- old car, to name but three of his crimes.
He has also totally endeared himself to us. At 35kg he still thinks he is a tiny puppy and can sit on our laps. As I write he is sound asleep, squeaking away to himself with his legs going nineteen to the dozen. We have managed to teach him to ignore squirrels and cats, both frequent visitors to the garden - but I'm hoping it's a pigeon he's dreaming about chasing off - perhaps he'll see what he can do about the ones that pulled up all our seedlings this summer- the plants that escaped the slugs, that is.
Wellington is under the impression that we are incapable of showering or bathing thoroughly and if he can, comes to supervise the process. There is nothing more disconcerting that having a cold, wet shower curtain pressed against you, when you least expect it.
He does have one particularly strange quirk, though: he is reluctant to bark, except when protecting the house from visitors, invited or not. As a pup, he kept us awake a lot at night, so despairing and exhausted, we bought a 'friendly' trainer - a bark-activated box, that sprays citronella across the dog's face. We think Sasha worked out that if she barked, he still got it in the face! Now though, he 'blows' for his food and if he wants to go out.
Dogs: not every one's cup of tea - but I'd be lost without mine.