Phoebe is demonstrating how adaptive our Cardis can be. She and Inca are now BFF, trotting through the house, lying on the patio munching apples, sprawled on the living room rug. When Chase and I came home from the office this afternoon, the girls were out in back. I walked in through the door to the garage. Phoebe came barreling in through the dog door barking ferociously: INTRUDER, INTRUDER. I said, “Silly girl, I live here.” She was so apologetic — scooted over to push against my legs, wagging furiously. It was awfully funny. Phoebe has now made gathering up Chase’s toys and putting them in a dog bed a regular activity. Poor Chase-man looks pretty worried about the disappearance of his bones and stuffies and rope toys. It’s nice to see him on the lower rung of the pack structure.
Meanwhile on the “where shall we whelp the puppies” front, I’m thinking upstairs isn’t going to work for this low-slung girl. So, I’m going to set up an area in the living room and will sleep on the couch during those early days. I can make it work AND I’m saved from the daunting chore of clearing out the closet. Phoebe will probably be far more comfortable on the ground level right next to the door to the yard.
