There is a lot of research into birth order and siblings. The research and personal experience backs up the notion that the oldest child takes up the self appointed role as the big fat bossy one. Take this. It's my younger sister's 50th birthday this week. Before she booked a venue for the family birthday bash she asked our oldest sister where we should go. After all, she said, in the end we'd end up going where she thought appropriate in any event. It's just the way it is. When we are all together we resume the roles we played as kids.
In their own way my dogs are like that. While wee willie Winkle dictates the terms of engagement much of the time, Rumple most definitely has the power of veto. When he puts his paw down that's law. So it was this morning. Just after 5am I was awake and decided the dogs and I should go to the beach. We got up, I got the lead and out the door we went. But Rumple simply refused to head to the car. No way. He turned and went back to bed. After a short battle, Winkle and I followed. The boss had spoken. Later in the day, when we finally got to the beach, Winkle had her revenge of sorts. She didn't want to play. For some bizarre reason she ran around and around in circles seemingly off with the fairies. It appeared that she was chasing something - ducking and weaving, pouncing and diving, bouncing and prancing. She was amusing herself for at least an hour. Every now and again, Rumple would try to engage her in a game, but she wasn't interested.
Everyone who walked by us at the popular dog beach laughed at her crazy antics.
Rumple found his own fun digging holes, learning the hard way that if you want to bury your head in the sand, you should make sure you are away from the high tide mark.
Then after a bit of a swim, we all went home happy and sandy.