A boy and his dogs

Until the arrival of El Presidente, Lucy and Ethel were our children. When we had a human child, the canine kids were bumped down in the pecking order in our house. For those reasons, the dogs rarely give outward signs of affection.

They tend to ignore him. When he tries to get their attention, they leave the room. When he's in their way, they tend to bump him out of their way. In short, they have little respect for the little human that leap frogged them in seniority at Four Square No. 266.

But we've never feared retaliation. In fact, when we aren't looking, they might cozy up to him. You really see their loyalty to him when new people approach him. Or how they will follow his therapists around when they are working with El Presidente. Even Ethel, who I normally have to pull along on our walks, was pulling me to keep up with El Presidente during a recent outdoor therapy session.

They don't want to admit it, but they love that little boy. And he returns the love as well. Sure, he tries to push them out of his way sometimes (he is 23 pounds; they are 3 to 4 times his size; guess who wins). He'll get mad at them when they bump him down (on accident, I'm sure). When they bark, he'll tell them to "shush!" And on occasion, he'll shack his finger at them and say "no, no, no!"

But when they hopped in my father-in-law's van for a week of on-the-farm fun, El Presidente expressed confusion.

"Dogs?"

When the van pulled out of the driveway, he expressed great concern.

"DOGS?!?"

And when they disappeared around the corner, he screamed in horror, demanding their return.

"DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGS!!!"

The next ten minutes he spent grasping on to me, head on my shoulder, crying, with sobs intermittently interrupted with pathetic pleas.

"Dogs..."