Should I be insulted

My darling dogs have the dream life. They are ridiculously spoiled and doted upon. They go with us EVERYWHERE! I mean that in every literal sense. To parties, to the store, to work . . . they get to swim in the river - daily, hike in the mountains, run at ranches, play with other dogs, run with me in the mornings - they want for NOTHING! They have free reign of every inch of our house / furniture. They sleep in our bed with down comforters- yes ALL three of them. They get treats, fed 3 square meals a day, get to sit in our lap, petted by strangers, brushed . . . You name it. These dogs (if you can even call them that anymore) have the life!

Now, mind you - they get all of this from Peter and ME! Somehow they forget this small point. As I am sitting at work with ALL THREE dogs, Oliver is standing at the door whimpering as he scans the parking lot for his father who just left. Is life so bad with mom???? I know he's the dog here, but THROW MOMMA A BONE HERE!

[Insert picture in your head of darling puppy with sad, abused looking face staring out the screen door window here.]

Maybe I should take away the nice fluffy dog beds AT WORK and leave him at home to sleep on our cold floors during the day - away from all friends and civilization? Or maybe we shouldn't stop at the river on the way home to catch sticks?

I think Pete gives them some special drug that makes them worship him... Is it like crack and Pete's their doggy dealer and they just can't live without him or the pill? I am chopped liver today apparently.