Don’t know Tulip? Start here.
It’s dark. By the time all of us see it, the cat luxuriating in the street gutter is a mere four feet away. Redford and Tulip are like, “DIBS ON THE NOMS. JINX BUY ME A CAT.” I manage to control Tulip, but in the melee, Redford ends up standing on his hind legs with his claws in my upraised forearm. I walk away from the cat, pushing him. He’s bunny-hopping backward. For a moment, I’m doing Krav Maga against my dog.
Big old welts in the flesh of my forearm when I get home. Asshole.
I hear Tulip scrabbling at the door. When I open it, I see she has scratched two scratchy spots in the deck. Is there an animal living underneath my deck that she’s trying to get to? Because that’s what I need. An animal living under my deck.
CCB likes to have pictures of the dogs with their foster people so I attempt to snap a picture of me and Tulip together.
I try again.
In preparation for future travels, I’m trying to line up doggy-sitters for Tulip. She goes for a test-drive slumber party at a prospect’s house. (Don’t get excited; this woman won’t adopt Tulip because she has joint custody of a big female pit/lab mix with her ex-husband.)
I get a call about 8:00. Tulip’s peed on the carpet twice; do I have any suggestions?
No, I don’t. Redford gets confused by carpet too (“It’s grass! But inside!”). I tell her just to let her out as soon as she comes out of the crate and every couple hours.
I pick her up from the sitter. The woman says there were no more potty incidents after our call. Phew.
Tulip got hella cuter in the last 20 hours.