"Who let the dogs out?" is an actual line of inquiry in our house.
We are house-training a 7-month-old puppy, so regular dog walks are built into our schedules.
You'll hear the back door open, and then someone will announce loudly, "Keeper just did both potties! He'll need to go out again at 4:30!"
Our older, 9-year-old dog, Boise, meanwhile, finds it distressing that Keeper, the 7-month-old pup, sometimes still has accidents in the house. You can almost feel Boise thinking, "Why can't this idiot puppy just go outside three times a day like me?
"Just open the door, run to the end of the hedge, take care of your business and be back inside in two minutes getting a Milk-Bone."
On my work-at-home days, I get to watch how the dogs interact.
Boise, who has been an "only dog" since 2013, is a submissive soul who's not used to competing for attention. Meanwhile Keeper is a confident little pup who can impose his will on the bigger and older dog. We were told he was the "boss" of his litter.
At first I looked at the two dogs like siblings. I thought their little rivalries were like two brothers fighting over the last chicken finger.
At feeding time, the dogs will bolt from their own bowls -- which are placed at opposite ends of the house -- and try to steal the other dog's food. Give each one a bone, and they'll put down the bone in their mouth and lunge for the other's.
My favorite football coach, Mike Tomlin of the Pittsburgh Steelers, likes to talk about competition for spots on the roster at different positions. "Two dogs, one bone" is one of his favorite expressions.
After watching our dogs for months, though, I've decided that the sibling comparison is wrong. The friction is more about life stages than "sibling" rivalry.
It helps me to think of Boise as a Boomer and Keeper as a member of Gen Z.
Boise is getting ready for Social Security in dog years. He's a few pounds overweight and likes nothing better than taking a nap.
Keeper, on the other hand, is hyperactive. He constantly wants to play and lick. He taunts Boise with incessant licks to the face, while Boise lifts his head and growls in protest.
Sometimes they'll play a game of chase, with Keeper literally running circles around Boise. Meanwhile, it infuriates Keeper that he can't yet jump up on our bed like Boise.
He will stand beside the bed and try to launch himself 100 times on his back legs -- boing, boing, boing. Meanwhile, Boise will curl up in a ball behind my knees, using my legs as a fort against the advances of that crazy little dog.
In the last couple of weeks though, I've noticed the beginning of a thaw in the relationship. If both of the dogs are truly tired, they'll set aside the horseplay and sleep for hours side by side. If I didn't know better, I'd think they are snuggling.
If they were humans, I can imagine Boise making a generational peace offering: "Keeper, if you'll quit talking about my Social Security cost-of-living adjustment, I'll quit making fun of your college loan forgiveness."
After all, we are family and we care about each other.
And sometimes we all just get too tired to fight. Nevermind the doggone bones.
The "Family Life" column publishes on Sundays. Email Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com.