Cats, meet dog. Dog, don't eat cats.

With the realization that squeaky toys have a half-life of 20 minutes, we continued to be a little apprehensive about Lulu's introduction to the cats. The cats were too, to say the least. E installed a six-inch long hook on the basement door to give the cats free access to the basement, but keep the fat-headed dog from chasing them downstairs. The cats took full advantage of this and sat at the top of the basement steps, watching the dog from relative safety. I can only imagine their enthusiasm watching Lulu toss around her squeaky toy like an orca playing with a seal.
At some point, however, the inability to annoy us became overwhelming for Pete, and she ventured out. (I think it took 6 days after we brought Lulu home, and only two days after letting the cats come and go from the basement freely.) Lulu was, of course, extremely interested. After lots of magazine flapping (recommended by a dog trainer - I guess the noise is a distraction) and at least one well-timed swipe on Pete's part, Lulu is a bit bloodier and (hopefully) a little wiser and Pete is hanging out in Garden Cat's spot on the dining room table. So far, the Garden Cat is taking her sweet time.
Obedience lessons start tomorrow! While they probably won't help too much with the cat introductions, we are hopeful that they will eventually help Lulu learn that a pitbull (mix?) jumping on random people is not always welcome, and pulling on the leash like some kind of draft animal is not going to hurry us up. Still, best dog ever. (And no heartworms! So best not-wormy dog ever!) Sorry, Paw: I guess I should clarify best non-Orc dog ever.