I am Pam Spaniel.
When my humans take me out to do business just before leaving the house, it insults my intelligence. Just because I went on the lawn doesn't mean I can't go again. A little... calling card on the laundry room linoleum reminds them of my displeasure at their absence. Should they step in it upon return, it serves them right.
A lady doesn't discuss such things. I am mortified.
When the refrigerator repair man comes, I know it's all a ruse and that he is really here to see me. It would be rude not to bark sharply in heralding the arrival of a gentleman caller.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's here to fix the refrigerator.
When Alpha comes home, I greet him by getting up on my hind legs and prancing, ultimately landing with front claws on his pant legs. Then I bark sharply and he says, Down, Joanie! Down! Quiet!
It's kind of our special thing.
At least twice a day, one of my humans tells me I'm lucky I'm cute. I'm lucky? I'M lucky? They're lucky. I went to the vet many times in my early puppyhood and saw dogs of all shapes and sizes, and there are some true uggos out there. Woof.
Discussing ones own cuteness, except in the most discrete manner, is splotch gauche.
I have mixed feelings about Omega. She's smaller than the other humans and easier to steal food from approach, but often whatever I've snatched from her fingers received from her as a gift is unceremoniously fished out of my mouth and gets me sent to the laundry room. This is an affront to my sense of fair play. It is only natural that in said circumstances, I squat seek vengeance.
Ah, my special Omega. I have performed extensive Internet research on her condition and she does indeed feel empathy. At mealtime, I sit under the table and rest my head ever so gently in Omega's lap whilst gazing up at her with my limpid spaniel eyes. Through patient trial and error I have learned that if I give Omega my precious bone to play with for a bit, she will then hold it for me while I chew. We take turns, as the best of friends should. I have noticed that the other humans do not appear to have an interest in bones, but who am I to judge? Omega and I have a bond built on a firm foundation of shared Cheez-its and rawhide.
Sharing? Taking turns? Pleh.