In a moment of ill-advised weakness, I allowed the dogs to sleep on our bed. I wasn't feeling very well and the 'boys' were a great comfort. However, as I am the responsible adult in this menage a trois, I fully expect to be obeyed at all times. So when I said no today, I meant no, I am sleeping in my bed and dogs must sleep on their own beds. Imagine my surprise when I later found not one, but both dogs sleeping on the (cream embroidered duvet with a royal blue velvet cover) spare bed. I drew a sharp intake of breath and the slumbering ones gently harumped in my general direction. (For non-boxer owners that's a widely accepted voice of dissent). I stood my ground and pointed, down! now! They skulked off, giving me a hurt sniff as they walked past me.
It's been a cold day, so they have been indoors quite a bit, in between walks and games, and barking at the neighbours' children in the woods. And, it's been quite a battle of wills, me against dogs on the bed. I have prevailed. I am the boss, but nobody told them.