Charlie’s becoming a man, or at least a thirteen year old boy. Lots of humping and peeing in puddles. It’s quite hilarious actually – one of his favorite things to do these days is find a puddle – formed from rain or from irrigating – and stand in the middle of it and pee. He’s also begun to dig little holes everywhere, which is nice because it’s dulling his talon-like claws and it’s the cutest thing in the world to watch. For the longest time, Charlie pretended to bury things like steak bones or washcloths by scratching the ground about three times and then nosing a thin layer of dirt over 1/8th of the object, and then walking away completely satisfied that it was buried and invisible to all others. Now he’s a pro.

Charlie’s big enough that I’ve introduced him to MC’s dogs, and he loves to play with them, though one of them (a male border collie) is scared of Charlie. But when MC’s dogs come near me, Charlie hackles up from the crown of his head to his tail – a two inch mohawk running the length of his body – and he stands in front of me and growls and bites at them. I’ve never had a guy get in a fist fight over me, and there’s something oddly gratifying about a male willing to draw blood for you.