Say it inna ear

Yesterday, Eska said it inna ear - while I was gone: she ate my headphones through and through.

Serves me right.

You're Fired

Today, I fired Eska.

I mean, I think I was justified: she is terrible at her job. She doesn't bark when strange people enter or exit the house. She kisses rather than hisses at delivery men she's never seen when they come and invade her space. She runs for cover (usually behind me) anytime she hears a loud noise or walks beside large, imposing machinery. She ineffectually chases mice when they crawl out of her food and onto my kitchen table. Actually. I mean, ok, she scares them back into their little mouse holes, but that doesn't help either one of us.

I gave her her pink slip today and wished her luck with her search. She really is the weakest link in this equation.

Free-range Existence

Eska and I have entered week 2 of free-range existence (ie, I am no longer crating her during the day in an attempt to see if a perceived increase in trust (mine) can lead to a reduction of excitability (hers). So far, not bad: yesterday, she only got at the potatoes, and not even, really -- she only pulled the bag out from under the counter and played with it a little bit. She didn't even BITE into any. Jeez.

This time last week (or a little earlier), I came home to ten pounds of flour scattered allllllll over my apartment; I'll take mangled potatoes.

She's a weird girl, really. The other day, she just dragged a bag of mine into her crate with her, for fun. She didn't even do anything to it (that I can notice) - I assume she just sat on it.

I mean, there's got to be something I'm missing. Flour, purse, potatoes. What's the missing link?