While Remi and I were walking this morning, we met up with Rupert the Farmer and his Jack Russell, Keeley. We walked along the path, while the dogs ran along beside us in the fields. After a few minutes, a bicycle came up the dirt path toward us, carrying Rupert's brother. The three of us made our way back toward Rupert's house, the two men debating everything from business to banks to politics to girls. I told them they were typical brothers. Rupert agreed. "We think the same way," he said. "But since he's my little brother, I'm always obliged to be the one who is right."