They always want what they can't (or shouldn't) have

As I mentioned last week, Zienna and Zane have quickly become cross-species baby buddies. Clearly fascinated by one another, Zane shows his feelings for Zienna through countless “kisses” which Zienna not only doesn't mind, she encourages. Even before she could crawl, Zienna would reach through her play yard fence, extending her hands for Zane to lick. And now that she can get around, Zienna goes looking for Zane, even approaching his crate and reaching through its bars at times when he’s inside, as if to ask, “Wanna come outside and play?” More kissing ensues.

That Zane is so gentle with Zienna is really surprising. After roughly three and a half months since entering The Hamilton Zone, Zane is still learning his manners. He heels pretty well when it’s just me and him, but he's one excitable puppy who’ll jump at anyone who comes close. Since claws with 30+ pounds behind them and nipping teeth follow, he can be intimidating, good-natured or not. Just ask Zach, who's down half a dozen shirts, victims of Zane's overzealous affection.

During the past week, with non-stop rains reducing the number and duration of our walks, Zane has been even more enegetic than usual, doing periodic windsprints around the great room, pausing every few laps to say "hi" to Zienna. And then, after hosting Kelly's firm's party on Saturday night, we chose not to put Zienna's play yard back up, since we were trusting Zane more and because Zienna gets frustrated by confinement now that she can crawl. Between Zane's physical nature and Zienna's curiosity and mobility, a grand experiment was in the making.

Three days and counting without the protective fence, and all is going well—on most fronts. There’s not so much as a scratch on Zienna. True to what I'd observed to this point, she and Zane really do appear to have a special bond. Yes, Zane still terrorizes Zach (who won't stand up to him) and in the past week has left the back of one of my hands a bloody mess on three separate occasions over the excitement of going for a walk. But when he’s around Zienna, Zane’s demeanor instantly softens, as he nuzzles and threatens her with nothing more than that ever-present tongue.

But that isn't to say that the Little Z Mutual Admiration Society hasn't gotten into its share of mischief. Because it has.

Mid-morning on the first day that Zienna really got proficient at crawling, I was working in the kitchen when I heard a sound emanating from the corner of the breakfast nook. Hmmm, Zane must have decided to finish his breakfast, I thought. Only Zane was locked in his crate since I was in the other room. And Belly wouldn’t dare. Which could mean only one thing. Oops. Fortunately, I reacted quickly enough to fish the kibble out of Zienna's mouth before she choked. So much for her pristine, vegetarian state. But in the end, a lesson was learned and there was no real harm done.

Then on Monday, with Zienna's play yard gone and her toys free and unencumbered, I was again caught off guard when I heard—while Zienna was napping in her room—her electronic Winnie the Pooh toy emitting the digitized sounds of buzzing bees. Lately, Zane's been pretty good about leaving Zienna's toys alone, even when they're sitting right next to his. But I guess the temptation was too great with the fence gone and the bright, plastic pile of loot left unattended for the taking. Shooing him off, I corralled the toys safely into a corner next to my desk so I could watch and protect them.

A few more “grass is greener” encounters ensued, but by yesterday, I'd gotten things more or less back to normal, with Zane's food dish relocated to the laundry room, the door closed, and the Under One crowd back on track as to whose possessions were whose. Or so I thought.

Shortly after lunchtime, seated at my desk and deep in thought over something I desperately needed to complete for Christmas, my parental radar sent an alert indicating that Zienna was no longer viewable by my peripheral vision. Peering over the sofa, I saw her by the fireplace, smiling innocently as she sat playing with a toy. No worries, I thought. But as I sat down, I realized that her toys were all still neatly piled up next to me, and since Zienna has yet to figure out how to crawl with a toy in hand, that meant that...oh, yuck. Yep, she was chewing on a bright, red rubber doggie bone. Yikes.

Bounding across the room, I snatched the bone from Zienna’s hands as I placed her back on “her” side of the room. Then I ran back and scooped up the rest of Zane's toys and, along with the offending bone, threw the lot of them into a pile near his crate. Thinking I’d made the boundaries clear, I returned to my desk, only to find Zane chewing on one of Zienna's favorite rattles. Scolding Zane and anxious to get back to work, I tossed the rattle in the sink, then chased him back to his corner of the room for one last chance before a fast ticket to Crateville, or a quick reconstruction of the play yard fence.

As I sat down, Zane came sauntering around the corner of the sofa with his favorite chew toy—a crazy, UFO-like gold number covered in soft, green nubs (all the more inviting to babies!)—in his mouth. He plopped down a few feet from Zienna, who was banging two of her own playthings together, oblivious to the havoc. This is how it should be, I thought. Peaceful coexistence. Except that within seconds, Zane had jumped up, leaving behind his slobber-soaked treasure, for which Zienna immediately darted. I narrowly beat her to it, but by then, Zane was back with a squirrel-emblazoned cloth Frisbee, which Zienna found equally appealing and for which Zienna quickly grabbed—and at that point, enough was enough. Into the crate went Zane.

Today, we’re experimenting again, because we need to clear this hurdle. Obviously Zienna can't live full time in a play yard, just as Zane can't live full time in a crate. And besides, I realize that as a team, the Poopy Pals mean no harm. The way I'm figuring it, Zienna and Zane aren't misbehaving, they're sharing. Sort of like the Pilgrims and Native Americans, they're dividing territory and exchanging gifts (and things they can put into their mouths). Either that, or they're both smarter than any of us would believe and scheming to drive me batty. And for the record—even if that’s not their intent—they're doing a pretty good job of it!