As any dog owner will tell you, dogs know jealousy, and they aren't subtle about it. They'd wear it on their sleeves if they were into clothing.
Take our duo: chocolate lab Aquinnah and pit bull/lab mix Martha.
All I have to do when these two bound into the study while I'm sitting here is pat my knees twice and one of them will jump up, plop his or her front paws on my legs and stare me in the face.
If the dog in question is Aquinnah, who weighs in at a muscular 85 pounds, he will then feverishly lick my cheeks and chin with such gusto that you’d think I had just bathed in gravy. All while trying to kick things up to the next level, which would involve resting his paws on my shoulders, if I let him.
While Aquinnah plays his little game, Martha sits nearby, facing away from me but turning her head to give me a reproachful over-the-shoulder look because Aquinnah is getting so much attention.
Once Aquinnah's tongue bath is over and done with, it’s Martha’s turn.
At a slim and petite 35 pounds, Martha doesn’t run the risk of knocking me over in my chair, as Aquinnah does when he leaps up. Nor is she much into doggie kisses. Instead, she stands on her hind legs, tiny front paws on my knees, perfectly content to be hugged until her hug-o-meter reads “full.”
During this phase of the proceedings, of course, Aquinnah, is bouncing up and down behind Martha, trying to get my attention, or skulking off into the dining room. Until Martha gets down. Then, Aquinnah jumps back up and the cycle begins anew.
I can’t figure out if dogs don’t understand that there’s enough love to go around or they know it but don't care. Perhaps each of them wants a monopoly on affection, no matter how much of it there is to be had.
Take our duo: chocolate lab Aquinnah and pit bull/lab mix Martha.
All I have to do when these two bound into the study while I'm sitting here is pat my knees twice and one of them will jump up, plop his or her front paws on my legs and stare me in the face.
If the dog in question is Aquinnah, who weighs in at a muscular 85 pounds, he will then feverishly lick my cheeks and chin with such gusto that you’d think I had just bathed in gravy. All while trying to kick things up to the next level, which would involve resting his paws on my shoulders, if I let him.
While Aquinnah plays his little game, Martha sits nearby, facing away from me but turning her head to give me a reproachful over-the-shoulder look because Aquinnah is getting so much attention.Once Aquinnah's tongue bath is over and done with, it’s Martha’s turn.
At a slim and petite 35 pounds, Martha doesn’t run the risk of knocking me over in my chair, as Aquinnah does when he leaps up. Nor is she much into doggie kisses. Instead, she stands on her hind legs, tiny front paws on my knees, perfectly content to be hugged until her hug-o-meter reads “full.”
During this phase of the proceedings, of course, Aquinnah, is bouncing up and down behind Martha, trying to get my attention, or skulking off into the dining room. Until Martha gets down. Then, Aquinnah jumps back up and the cycle begins anew.
I can’t figure out if dogs don’t understand that there’s enough love to go around or they know it but don't care. Perhaps each of them wants a monopoly on affection, no matter how much of it there is to be had.
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