My seven-year-old sister and I were sitting on the kitchen floor this morning, watching as our three dogs horsed around.
Raven, the seven-month-old German shepherd, now dwarfs the two Dachshunds, and her conduct with three-year-old Minnie was growing a little rougher than I liked.
"Raven!" I called. "Raven, stop!"
Our newest pet completely ignored me.
"Raven!" I repeated.
Before I could issue another command, our six-year-old Dachshund, Millie, rose to her feet and brought the larger dog to the ground with a single bark.
"I can't believe Raven listens to Millie," I said to my sister.
"That's because Millie is the queen," Pie remarked, then clarified, "Only of the dogs, though, not of the family."
She smiled confidently.
"Dad is the queen of the family."