I have five dogs.

Let me repeat that.

Five. Dogs.

And yet… there is only one queen.

Her name is Violet.

She’s not the loudest.
She’s not the neediest.
She’s not the one causing chaos at 6 a.m. like the world is ending because someone moved a sock.

No. Violet is different.

Violet is my dog.

The Queen Energy

Every house has a natural hierarchy. You can pretend it doesn’t, but it’s there.

In our house, Violet didn’t fight for the throne.
She didn’t campaign for it.
She didn’t even acknowledge that a throne existed.

She simply sat down one day and it became hers.

She’s calm.
Collected.
Unbothered.

If another dog loses their mind over a doorbell, Violet looks at them like,

“You good?”

She doesn’t escalate drama.
She dissolves it.

The Peacekeeper… With Boundaries

Violet is the household diplomat.

If two dogs are arguing over a toy, she strolls over like a seasoned mediator and the argument just… ends. Nobody knows why. It just does.

But don’t mistake her kindness for weakness.

If Violet wants something — a spot on the couch, a treat, the last inch of blanket — she will get it.
Not through barking.
Not through whining.
Through pure, silent inevitability.

She looks at you.
You look at her.
And suddenly you’re moving over like,
“Yeah, that seems right.”

The Only One Who Sleeps With Me

Out of five dogs, Violet is the only one who sleeps with me.

Not because I made that rule.

Because she did.

It wasn’t discussed.
It wasn’t voted on.
It just… happened.

She climbs up, curls into her spot like she’s clocking in for her night shift as Emotional Stability Officer, and that’s that.

The others accepted this arrangement without question.
Even they know.

The Violet Stare

Every great leader has a signature move.

Violet’s is the stare.

It’s not aggressive.
It’s not pleading.
It’s not dramatic.

It’s more like:

“I believe you already know what needs to happen next.”

And the wild part?
You usually do.

Furniture Ownership Laws

Violet does not “sit” on furniture.

She occupies territory.

There’s a difference.

When she drapes a paw over the couch arm, it’s not relaxation — it’s a declaration.
When she stretches across a cushion, it’s not laziness — it’s zoning regulations.

Other dogs ask permission from furniture.
Violet issues permits.

Calm Doesn’t Mean Passive

Violet isn’t hyper.
She isn’t frantic.
She isn’t the dog sprinting laps around the living room for no reason.

But if something matters?
She moves with purpose.

No wasted motion.
No hesitation.
Just quiet certainty.

It’s like watching someone who already knows how the story ends.

Final Thoughts from Her Loyal Subject

I love all five of my dogs.

But Violet… Violet is different.

She’s the peacekeeper.
The bed companion.
The quiet negotiator.
The emotional anchor.
The one who doesn’t demand attention — and somehow gets all of it anyway.

If dogs had job titles, Violet’s would be:

Chief Household Stability Officer

Or maybe just:

Her Majesty.

And honestly… we’re all better off letting her run things. 🐾

Next Saturday: Meet the household’s Head of Security.