It’s been slightly over a month since Sam was joined by a little raven haired sister. Apart from Elsa’s diagnosis of epilepsy shortly after arriving, her integration as a dog into our household continues. Mostly it’s been without incident but the past week or so, there have been a couple of big kerfuffles which seems to suggest the ‘siblings’ are a bit jealous of one another. As the little miss gains her confidence, she realizes that the attention and loving care she is receiving is a pretty good arrangement. The past couple of incidents were the result of her apparently not getting all she thought she was entitled to, or that she was jealous at a misperceived favoring of Sam.
If you weren’t aware, let me just say I’m a big sports fan. As in…huge. Following along in that theme, there are times when I’m trying to decide if the Ranch has turned into a hockey arena or if it’s Madison Square Garden’s fight of the week…or maybe a combination of both. Sure there’s lots of jockeying for the puck (guess the puck would be me) with the ‘goal’ being to score favor in mom’s eyes. If you lean more toward being a pugilist…the combatants go to their neutral corners. If I sit on the floor, they come running to garner my 110% attention by sitting in or near my lap, to have their ears scratched. Usually it involved Elsa deftly maneuvering Sam out of close proximity. She’s a real master positioning herself between him and me. Being fairly close in size and weight, she has figured out just how to subtly herd him out of the way. Most of the time Sam wanders off on his own confused, but at other times, Elsa makes sure he wanders off with the precision of a military drone sniper strike. It always ends quickly and both look at each other and then at me as if they’d been possessed by demons with no explanation as to how that dust-up happened. Luckily there are no food aggression issues.
With siblings there always seem to come a pecking order and we’re still trying to sort out that order, in addition to integrating a puppy mill dog who has no clue about manners let alone how to properly be a dog. Add in trying to manage her condition and it becomes a muddy mess. In the meantime, I’ll be the one wearing a striped shirt, blowing a time-out whistle and refereeing these games, be they hockey or Golden Gloves.
How do you handle ‘sibling’ competition?
Live, love, bark! ❤