Hair

Lyla has gained 12 ounces in the past week. That's like the equivalent of a beer, isn't it?

I'm pretty sure that Daisy and Tulip think of Lyla as a tiny hairless puppy. Daisy still likes to lick her, as if welcoming her to the pack. Tulip tolerates her, and as long as Lyla never tries to eat her food, they'll be cordial acquaintances.

Neither of our dogs sheds much, but they do shed. On a pacifier left on the livingroom table, we'll find little black dog hairs and wash them off. Still, we wonder how much dog hair Lyla has accidentally ingested. One hair? Two? More?

We have joked that if we ever find a dog hair in Lyla's poop, then shortly thereafter we'll shave those dogs bald. And if you've ever seen either of our dogs after an aggressive groomer gets through with them, you know that any family of rodents would welcome them to a reunion picnic.

I do look forward to the day when Lyla decides to be master of the dogs. The ear and tail pulling, the poking, and the unpredictable movements will be good for our dogs to get used to. Perhaps they'll truly form a pack of three and plan insurrection against Julie and me. With Lyla's keen intellect, Tulip's blind ambition, and Daisy's recklessness, they could be a force to reckon with.

Let's just hope that Lyla doesn't become allergic to the dogs, or the dogs to her.