I see them much more than B does, as I work from home. Otto likes to sleep on the couch in my office and Ted rarely comes out of his strawberry until B comes home.
You see, B is our pack leader. Even though I spend the most time with the furry creatures, give them love (if I had a dollar for every kiss I've given them I could buy Bali), feed them, clean up after them, and just generally be their "mum."
They do love me - they whip into excitement when I get home and they jump into bed to say hello in the morning.
But B gets all the deep love. The no-holds-barred, unconditional, "I can't live without you or I might die of some dog-related disease"-kind-of love.
He attracts that sort of thing.
When he comes home, Otto nearly goes into cardiac arrest. Ted actually comes out of his strawberry. He then insists on laying on some part of B's body until we all go to bed, or the crying and whining starts. On weekends they jump in the bed, high jump straight over me like a mere obstacle, and go straight to the grand prize: B.
It's not something we planned at dog parenting school: He's just the man of the house and they know it. He's hardly "dominant" (way too nice and considerate for that) but he's firm and when he speaks they listen.
Apparently dogs are ok with rank; they don't all need to be "the boss" (except for Otto perhaps), but they get anxiety if they don't know their place, even if it's at the end of the line.
So we need a pack leader, or we'll all become anxious.
Plus, when Otto's attacking the rug, it's an excellent excuse for me to throw my hands up in the air and say things like, "See? They just don't listen to me!" and then leave B to deal with it while I quickly switch the channel to Tori & Dean while he's not looking.
Who wants to be a pack leader anyway? Thankless job.