That, if this scenario unfolded, I'd choose the dogs over any kid.
What I found, contrarily, is that after a few small impediments, our dogs grew to accept Julian as a part of our pack.
Sully is our teeny tiny little Boston Terrier; she
When Julian came along, her jealousy steeped through her positivity a bit, but it didn't mature until he moved from grub-status and started crawling. Ruthie wanted nothing to do with this grasping, bobble-headed alien who wanted to invade her personal space; I think she panicked a bit, until realizing she was much quicker and could trot away. Now, the two have a treaty. He throws the ball for her, feeds her food off his high chair, and occasionally gets to pat her. But mostly, she happily keeps her distance, which is fine.
···I needed to write this down. Our dogs are all in their ninth year of life. Rabbit's birthday is coming up in October, and both girls will be one decade old in June. Sully's premature gray has turned to white, the light hairs now peppering Ruthie's once ink-black muzzle have spread down her side, and Rabbit gets up a bit slower in the morning.
When That Day comes, I will want to package up my pain and put it away somewhere deep. And I know that I will not be able to talk or write about it, or them, for a very long time. But, for now, all is good; we and our beloved hounds are healthy and in good spirits. The bad stuff can wait.