Sunday: Once again I got behind because of the weather, so I’m going to take this opportunity while I’m waiting for the plow guy to come, and all the snow to fall off the roof in front of the house so I can a) go out the front door without getting clobbered and b) and clean it up.
The alien has pretty much been demoted to the status of toy, albeit a special one. There was one incident this week in which Fric went on a playing jag downstairs and then started to race upstairs with it. Unfortunately, she only had ahold of one leg and she lost her grip when she hit one of the steps with it. I was right behind her and, even more unfortunately, kicked it. Then the two of us watched it as it plunged downward and came to rest behind the couch. She looked at me and I vowed to bring it up for her but so far I’ve found other things to do besides getting down on my storm-battered hands and knees and dragging it out. Maybe today…
[Later addendum: I brought the alien out and she brought it upstairs, then took it down again to play with it and then brought it up again.]As interest in the alien has waned, interest in playing with Bee has increased and the games of tag have moved indoors. For the most part Fric still doesn’t want her near the puppies, but the puppies are as interested in Bee as she is in them. Her nose is pointy enough that she can stick it through the holes in the playpen and their paws are small enough that they can fit through the holes from the other side. The result of this is a game of nose-nudging and batting which they all seem to enjoy. Well, except Fric. But she’s not nearly as hypervigilant as she’s been and these nose-batting sessions often occur while she’s sleeping.
Even the snarly routine with Bee now seems more of habit than a necessity. From the beginning, it was rare that she’d hassle Bee when both of them were outside the pen, opting instead to merely put her body between Bee’s and the pen. Now she still does that, but there’s not as much of an edge to her as there was before. More like bossiness than defense. Even so, there are still times when Bee will do something (although I admit I’m not sure what) that will trigger a more energetic protective response. In this case, Fric will immediately race to the hassock beside the pen, jump on it, then onto to the crate, then down to the floor inside the pen and lunge and snarl at Bee in a remarkably short period of time. What intrigues me about this behavior is that it’s obvious all for show because she was standing right next to Bee and, had she desired, could have easily attacked her if she really thought the pups were at risk.
Years ago when I was pregnant with one of the kids I read an article about how pregnant women tested closer to schizophrenic (I think that’s what it was, although it may have been psychotic, but I associate psychotic more with peri-menopause) than normal. And I also recall a female MD who got off smacking a trooper who stopped her from speeding using what the judge considered a credible PMS defense. And then there are all those crazy things women do post-partum, including crying a lot or, in my case, consuming large volumes of chocolate. It’s routine for women to speak of being “hormonal,” thereby acknowledging the conflict that may arise between the behavior society expects under certain circumstances and the mandate coming from some far deeper and in many ways more real part of the psyche. Naively, I expected Fric and Bee to be immune to that and yet particularly with Fric I can see that isn’t true. For weeks she been living in a world in which her hormones called the shots that thousands of years of trial and error evolution have proven were the most likely to ensure the survival of her pups. Now she’s extracting herself from that ancient world, tempering it with the bond she has with me and other people.
Once again she leaves me in awe of how little we know.