Caroline has an only child attitude toward Zelda. It’s kind of funny, actually. Yesterday, we went out to pick up pizza, and they were both in the back seat. Caroline didn’t quite say, “But she’s TOUCHING me!” but she came close. I had to remind her that it’s actually Zelda’s back seat: since Zelda is the only one who ever sits back there, it’s not exactly a surprise that she’s not quite sure what to do about Caroline sharing her seat, and that seemed to satisfy.

Swimming, though, it’s come up again and again, and not because Zelda is doing anything. She’s just…a dog. Curious. Interested in what Caroline is doing. Willing to run endlessly around the pool so that she’s always next to where Caroline’s head pops up. If she was doing something wrong, I’d intervene, but she’s not, so when C. complains, I’ve said, “Yep, she’s a dog.” Finally this morning, when Caroline was complaining again, I said to her, “Honey, I know you’d like her to ignore you. But she’s a dog. You’re a people. If you can’t ignore her, how can you expect her to do more than you?” I guess that struck a chord, because for the last forty-five minutes or so, Caroline has been doing a beautiful job of distracting the dog with the ball, then running and jumping in the pool. It’s the first time they’ve ever really played together and it is seriously charming to watch.