No!  No!  Patches! BAD DOG!

More on that later...but let's get an update on the Zoo.

Cats first. Cole is really adapting well to the household and Duncan appears happy to have another boy to play with.  You'd think that as Toms, Duncan and Cole would rather fight than play.  But since both of them are essentially Tomless, they are pretty happy to have a buddy with whom to cavort.  Yesterday, I walked into the guest/cat room and Duncan had his head on the corner of the bed with an arm hanging off either side.  As Cole walked around the corner of the bed, Duncan's paws went thwacka, thwacka, thwacka at Cole's tail.  Later, Cole was on the futon and as Duncan walked by , Cole leaned over for a few thwackas at Duncan's head.  Not an aggressive act at all, and we recognized it as how Duncan started playing with Scarlett and Savannah when they moved in together.  A thwacka is apparently a paw testing the water of play in catland.  (That's some stretched metaphors there!)

Next, Cats and Dogs.  So, we learned some important logic in Patches' head regarding cats.  We're pretty sure Patches thinks of cats as funky, indoor squirrels.  But we discovered over the weekend that Scarlett and Duncan are HIS funky, indoor squirrels, and nobody better mess with them.  At some point Friday or Saturday, Cole hissed at Scarlett (although I'm sure she started it), and Patches went crazy, barking and jumping.  It was the same crazy Patches showed when someone frightened Phil in dog class.  Nobody better mess with his pack...no matter how bizarre or squirrelly his pack may be.  The visiting cat, Cole, has promped feelings of possession in Patches which we think might be good.  Since Cole has been here, Patches has been much less likely to try to dominate Scarlett or Duncan when they leave the cat area of the house. 

Of course, a good cat chase is never out of the question.  Last night, while watching Worst Witch, we saw a flash of fluffy gray tail going over the puppy fence, just as we heard the tappy-tap-tap of untrimmed dog nails picking up speed behind the couch and heading towards the fence.  On the hardwood floors, Patches can sometimes have a hard time getting enough traction to really get going.  But he was able to dig down and  find something to fling off of before running towards the gate.  Of couse, braking can be hard, too, on hardwood floors.  Which Patches demonstrated by sitting on his haunches, planting his front legs, and smacking straight into the puppy grate.  I hope Scarlett was clear of the gate before it popped out of the door and banged into the floor.  Patches emerged with a low wagging tail asking if he was in trouble for that.  No.  That was funny.  That was not why Patches was a devil dog yesterday.

So, what happened?  Patches and I had just gotten back from the garden snipping some mint for the yummy red lentil and mint soup Carter recommened a few weeks back.  (How yummy?  We ate the whole thing.  No leftovers for lunch today.)  I kicked off my shoes and began cleaning and chopping and grating.  Patches picked a favorite toy and went under the dining room table to amuse himself.  At some point, the sonar kicked in.  I look over and Patches is in his crate, pulling hard at some toy.  But it wasn't some toy.  It was my shoe and its heel was already destroyed. 

Now, for most women, this would just be a slight inconvenience requiring a trip to a favorite shoe store to find a cute replacement.  But with my gnarled runner's feet, it is a bit more of an ordeal.  It's not just the callouses, the blisters, the toes with partial toenails pointing in all directions.  No.  It's not just that.  It's the fact that my feet look like duck's feet blown up to human size that makes shoe shopping less than pleasant.  Granted, my feet help me skim over puddles when I run, but it's hard to find shoes that fit AND don't make the other customers in the shoe store retch.  I know Patches doesn't understand my issue with my paws.  He obviously thinks they are fine, demonstrating his feelings with licks and shoenapping (these are the third pair of summer shoes he's destroyed).   But, Patches, that's a bad dog to eat Mommy's shoes.  BAD DOG. 

Off to work.  I must create an outfit to work around whatever shoes fit both the season and my ugly ass feet. 

8:32:52 AM