I have two pairs of Crocs by the back door, one purple and one pink. Their original purpose was to wait, at the ready, for me to rush out the door. They still occasionally act in that capacity. However, their more frequent occupation is to provide entertainment for Miles. Seldom are all four shoes lined up anywhere near their post. Earlier today I discovered only one shoe waiting for me.
“Miles, where are my shoes?” I searched the first floor. “Here’s one in the living room. Oh wait. That’s another left.” Miles thinks I have two left feet. “Miles where are my right shoes?”
I find a shoe in the bedroom. The need for colors to match is negligible at this point. One purple, one pink, off I go. After I watered the tomatoes and returned inside I found another shoe on the porch. There were, however briefly, four shoes side by side once again. Then Miles wandered over, deftly grabbed a shoe and trotted away. A little later I found the Croc on our bed, next to a sleeping Miles.
Tiegan does not bother with my shoes. With Tiegan, everything is a game. Catch me, catch me if you can. Tiegan is so very irresistibly cute when she plays on the bed. She bounces into a play bow and then nimbly hops sideways on the bed, stopping in another play bow as she pretends to nibble the blanket. She is so light, quick, and wonderful to watch. I think this is my favorite play time with her, when she bounces around on the bed and I trot around the bed pretending to chase my pretty girl. I say pretending, because even if I intended to catch her, she is much too quick for me to actually capture her.
Tiegan loves the screened porch and is content to perch on a chair or recline on the love seat as long as I let her. If it’s hot out, I turn on the ceiling fan. The porch is surrounded by trees, so our back yard is always much cooler than being in the direct sun. Still, I check on my girl all the time, making sure she isn’t getting too hot and Miles hasn’t tipped over the water dish so he can lope around the yard triumphantly carrying the empty dish, trying to initiate a game of chase. I make them come inside in the AC periodically, just so I know they aren’t too warm. We have a doggy door to the porch and then a doggy door from the porch to the yard. When the humans are away, they don’t have access to the porch or the yard. Tiegan is so content on her porch, I feel bad about making her come in when I go to work.
If I arrive home while they are languishing with no parent to entertain them or let them out for squirrel patrol, they greet me and then immediately rush over to the doggy door waiting to dash out, check their territory, and terrorize squirrels. I pull the cover free and off they go, racing about. They eventually come back to see if, by chance, I’m preparing food for them. Miles comes for snuggles. Tiegan flits about, dancing close and leaping out of reach, delighted that she can so easily evade my attempts to catch her.
If I arrive after Eric is already home, I get a royal welcome. I kneel on the floor exclaiming what good babies they are. Tiegan waves her front paws at me, high fiving me and dancing about. Miles makes sure he’s within snuggle range, sometimes leaning on me. They both talk to me, roodling and offering commentary about their day.
When they feel I’ve been sufficiently greeted, and no food appears forthcoming, they go off to tell Eric I’m home; just in case he somehow missed all the jumping about and general commotion.
And then I make the rounds of the house and back yard, tracking down my Crocs. Purple shoe, pink shoe . . . .