This week, Kyle has been in St. Louis for work. Olive, Zoe, Martha, Stewart and I have been manning (er, largely womaning) the home front.
Thursday, my Dad came over for dinner and to visit with Olive. We had some tasty crock-pot pork, mashed potatoes and a salad.
After dinner we played with blocks and Olive's magnetic-drawing-board-thing. As things were wrapping up for the evening, the following transpired:
My Dad: Heather, Zoe is eating whatever is on the stove. Did you leave the pork on the stove?
Me: No. (Standing up to look.) She is eating the mashed potatoes. Zoe! Down!
Yup. Those mashed potatoes will not be around to enjoy with the pork leftovers.
Dad left, I let Zoe out back, Olive went to bed, and then I tried to let Zoe in.
The side gate was wide open (it was a very windy night and that latch needs an update) and the backyard was empty (well, empty of Zoe).
I raced for some shoes and to ensure that Olive was dreaming quietly. I wasn't comfortable wandering far, so I stood in front of our house and yelled for Zoe (trying to fake cheerfulness so she wouldn't sense my frustration and avoid a scolding).
A few moments later, Zoe came bounding our of the darkness.
Ah, Zoe-dog. What are we going to do with your energy!?