I can hardly remember a time when there wasn’t a Biscuit. He’s technically my nephew. That is to say, he’s my sister’s pup. But Biscuit is much more than that. Much, much more. He’s a pal when we’re alone in the house with classical music playing. I don’t change positions from when you left and have reminded us, “I’ll be back!” I know you’re telling the truth because you always come back. Eventually. I listen to all the sound/music on the CD player, but I have a favorite: Chopin. After we’ve waited through many musical compositions, we hear the garage door go up. I’m first at the door. Biscuit wakes from his tenth nap of the day and joins me. He tries to imitate my happy expression when you come home. Biscuit sniffs your shoe and wags his tail. I jump on you and hug you. He doesn’t have nearly the keen sense of drama that I have. But you pet both of us equally. It’s only fair that you love us the same, even if I am older and wiser.

Biscuit is also an excellent playmate when we find a big stick along the walking path. Sometimes I take one end and he takes the other. Sometimes when I’m feeling Alpha-ish, I growl low in my gullet and Biscuit drops his end and I go sailing off with the stick bouncing down the path. I feel sorry for him and prance in front of him in order to demonstrate just the right swagger, head up, feet a-dancing. He tries to pick up the dragging end of the stick and I completely fake him out by running away again. It’s a great game. 

Biscuit’s an accomplice when I steal socks off the drying rack in the laundry room. He tries to take part of one sock, but I hold on tightly. We both run upstairs to see if when we stand at the front door, you’ll let us outside on the deck to patrol the neighborhood. I have to fork over the socks before you let us out. You let Biscuit out if he jingles the bells on the door, which requires no effort or ingenuity.

I used to be boss regardless of the time and place, but what good is that if there’s nobody to follow? Now I have Biscuit to help convince you that I need to go outside this instant.

Since Biscuit arrived, when the day folds in and it’s good and dark, it becomes absolutely necessary for me to remind Biscuit and you and Dad that I am Leader. When he jumps on your bed and he thinks he’s closest to you, I have to jump in front of him even closer. If he lies on your feet and acts like a big fluffy baby, I usually let him get by with it because I know who I am. I am not fluffy. I am sleek and elegant. I do not have to prove 100% domination because Biscuit and I both know who’s Top Dog.

Advice from Oliver: It takes a source of competition to prove one’s true excellence.