We have three Boston Terrier dogs that are treated well. They have the free roam of the house and the spacious backyard (via a doggie door), lots of places to lounge around and nap, and numerous things to play with. Life should be good, huh?
You would think so, but the three dogs spend most of their waking moments hassling each other about the same rope pull, bone, or ball. One moment it is an elk bone that they all “must” have, and fifteen minutes later they are in a loud tug-of-war over a hunk of rope or a Kong ball.
All the while there is, at their disposal, a toy bin on the floor that has numerous items in it, all of them indispensable “’must haves” that the three have argued about previously. It is as if there is a “flavor of the hour” that precipitates a battle royale. Then, they go to their corners for a brief nap, recharging their battery packs for the next three-dog scrum.
Sharing toys is not something that these dogs do well. All three could care less about the green fake bone… unless one of them picks it up. Then, the other two act put-upon, dropping whatever they are doing and rushing to take the green bone from the other one. Each one cannot abide watching another one enjoy himself/herself with a toy. Not gonna happen on their watch!
This hourly carnival reminds me of my youth, growing up with my brother Terry.
My bro’ was older and bigger than me and liked to throw his weight around. If he wanted something that I had, he just took it from me. If our parents bought something for us, to “share”, I would be lucky to get a glance at it before Terry assumed full ownership. If I had the audacity to claim something as my own, my brother would simply bulldoze me. Our disagreements ended quickly.
I recall the time that we got a remote-controlled airplane for Christmas, to share, my parents said. Fifteen minutes later, we were at the local elementary school playground where Terry got the plane going, put it into at climb to 100’, and then lost control, of course. The plane hit the pavement doing about 60 mph and broke into a thousand pieces. My “sharing” consisted of helping to hastily unwrap the toy, watching Terry destroy it, and cleaning up the mess on the playground. What fun!
A few years later, when we used to vacation at our beach trailer in Ensenada, Mexico, my parents thought that it would be a good idea to have a skiff, with a small outboard motor, for Terry and I to enjoy in the small bay. We were to “share” it, they said. Ho, ho, as if! Terry glommed onto that skiff, wouldn’t let me touch the outboard motor, and assumed the role of Commodore Manning, Master of the Seven Seas. That lasted a very short time, as he beached the skiff into the rocky shore and mangled the propellor, making it useless for us.
I never got to drive “our” boat.
Baby, our almost 6-year-old Boston Terrier, is the kindler, gentler Terry of the Manning pack. She is bigger, stronger, and more agile than BonBon and Vinnie. Baby can basically take any toy from her siblings whenever she wants to, and sometimes she does. Vinnie is dumb enough to think that he can assert control over his big sister, and he often puts up a noisy fight. It’s a losing effort, if Baby so desires.
However, unlike my brother, the Boss will sometimes just go through the motions and allow BonBon or Vinnie to “win” a tug-of-war or take the prized elk bone from her. It is very generous and noble of Baby to do that. Maybe it’s the “motherly” instinct in her?
I am in my guest room “office” right now, with the three dogs lying on the carpet, snoring. They are recuperating from a 20-minute war over a hunk of bone that has been laying around the house for a week, unnoticed.
In ten minutes, they will be up again, heading off for a new chapter of sharing, doggie-style.
(Oops, correction! The three just awoke from their naps and have decided to do some rasslin’ next to me on the carpet. No toys, just bitey-face jousting and some Sumo moves from Baby. This won’t last long: Vinnie will end up pinned by Baby, for sure. However, they’re having fun, sharing their love for one another in their own way. I’m happy that they enjoy each other’s company.)
(Correction Number Two: They ran out of the room, and ran back in a few minutes later with a big, Blue rubber ball that I haven’t seen in weeks. They are now fighting over it, tooth and nail. “I must have it!”, they each demand. Ha, Ha!)