Barrett, the younger of my two Labrador retrievers, has always been a bit of an oddball. At the dog park, while Remy and all the other Labs are fetching tennis balls and splashing in the kiddie pool, Barrett spends most of her time licking my pants and rolling in the grass. She's afraid of staircases, plastic bags, and laundry. A canine form of OCD seems to compel her to spin and lick constantly, behavior that only gets worse when she gets excited.

Her uniqueness was evident from the time she was a puppy. In beginning obedience class, doggie bowling was the only exercise in which she excelled. The instructed set up plastic bowling pins in a square marked on the floor, and the handlers had to stand outside the area while coaching their dogs to knock down the pins. While other the other dogs tip-toed around the pins, Barrett barreled right through them.

Four years later, she still acts like a puppy, and lets other dogs treat her like a puppy. When approached by my parents' collie, who is half her age, Barrett always rolled over or ran away.

Until recently, that is.

On my family's recent trip to Maine, Barrett was enduring the normal abuse when something in her snapped. Maybe she was fed up with the previous three days of running away, hiding behind us, and rolling over in a submissive position. Maybe she has finally grown up. Either way, after taking several collie nips to the hindquarters, she sprang into action. With fervor usually reserved for wrestling matches with Remy, she leapt, front paws in the air, towards her attacker. My parents' dog immediately flopped to the ground while Barrett sprinted laps of the yard. But instead of running away, she swooped right in for another attack. This wasn't aggressive behavior, just the playfulness of a normal dog.

Something about being the top dog, for once, must have appealed to her. Being the youngest member of our pack, Barrett had always left guard dog duties to Remy. Several time throughout the week, she exhibited her newfound confidence with loud throaty barks, even aiming one at my mother picking blueberries.

I'm wondering if this newfound maturity has anything to do with the fact that she is no longer the baby of the house. That role has been taken over by our new son. Ever since his arrival, Barrett's behavior has been more doting mother than spinning puppy. She often naps in the baby's room, follows me around when I'm changing or feeding him, and comes to get us when he is crying.

Whether it's due to the new baby, or is just a coincidental maturation two years too late, I'm happy for her. It's nice to see her standing up for herself. Maybe we can postpone the trip to the doggie therapist and cancel the sedative prescription.