Ah, Zoe.

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).

Panic.

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!?