Prada is living with us. She's been here about 5 weeks, now.

She's kind of a goof. She's six years old, (Midnight is seven, Cinnamon is three) and she still thinks she's a puppy, sometimes. Maybe it's more accurate to say that historically Lexi leaves her with someone else for a five or six week stretch every year, so there's a new group of humans she tries to intimidate every year. And see what she can get away with.

Prada tows. Give her a bit too much leash and she'll pull you off your feet. After all she's almost ninety pounds and it's all muscle. And with four on the floor she's equal to two and a half times her weight in pulling power, and none of us are 225.

But she forgets that I taught her to walk on a leash when she was a baby. The trick to control her, then and now, is simple -- keep her lead short and when she starts to tow let her. If you hold firm, she'll walk her front paws right off the ground, leaving half her weight on her neck. You have to be able to lift 45 pounds, but only for a few moments. She doesn't like it and will back off. Of course she will give you a look like "Why did you DO that to me?" Which can be quite hard for some people to stand.

Some people surrender and let her do anything -- tow them hither and yon, eat garbage off the street, lunge across traffic to meet and greet other dogs, etc.

It's true that all dogs go to heaven, and under her testing, she's a good dog. In a sense she just wants to know what the limits are. And once she knows what they are, and tests them a few times to be sure you actually mean it, she's fine with them.

In Austen once she was attacked by a cloud of Yorkies, yapping and snapping at her. She developed a health dislike/distrust of them. Now Cinnamon, although too large to match breed standard for a Pomeranian, is still no bigger than a large cat. So when Prada came in and met her, you could tell she was wondering "if this thing gets to be a problem, can I kill it, or will that be too far over the line?" Gradually Cinnamon won her over by enlisting Prada in attacking Bubbles, a big, laid back Siamese. Before that Cinnamon would fake charge him, and Bubbles would lie on his side and yawn. And stretch his claws. And close his eyes. Which is kitty cat for "I dare you, Doofus."

So when Cinnamon could get Prada to snap from the other side, at the same time, Bubbles beat a retreat. It was a leisurely, strolling retreat, but still.

So now Cinnamon and Prada spend hours rolling on the floor, nose to nose, fake growling at each other and kind of putting their open mouths on the other's open mouth. It's playing. Kind of like young teenagers trying out French kissing.

But her family's back from this year's trip, so she's leaving Tuesday. I think we'll actually miss her. Maybe not Bubbles.