Playing with My Pup
Padfoot just keeps showing his age. The grey has moved up his butt to his back and neck, and I have to let him outside to pee what seems like every ten minutes. Well, not every ten minutes, but, like, when he needs to go, I let him out. Two minutes later he wants back in. And in another two minutes he wants back out. Then in. Then out. And in again. Maybe he is excreting in stages because it's so cold? I don't know. Or maybe his bladder is going screwy. One can never tell with bees. Or dogs.
So he looks older, and his bladder is certainly acting older. But Padfoot's spirit is as young as ever. He still barks like a fiend and runs for the door at the slightest hint or noise of an outside intruder. And he's still got it in his to play, bless his fuzzy heart.
I let him back in for the second or third time, and thankfully he'd finished his business because he scampered into the family room to play with his bone. I could hear him scuffling about from my stand(sit)point in the kitchen and felt the urge to play along. What follows is our ferocious skit and banter.
Padfoot: Eineinein. (aka *chompchompchomp*)
Me: Aarrrr!
Padfoot: *pauses instantly, ears perking*
Me: *jumps up and jets past the kitchen table and into the family room* AARRR!!!
Padfoot: *firmly grabs his bone and whirls around to deflect my sabotage attempt* Grrah!
Me: *plants self on floor space opposite him and challenges him* Eerrrrr.
Padfoot: Eineineinein. *chews on bone to assert his dominance of it*
Me: *slaps at bone, trying to knock it out from between his paws*
Padfoot: *snaps it up and darts off to the other side of the family room* Hein hein hein!
Me: *chases after him on all fours* AR AR!! *scoots into him to get closer to bone* Arrrrrr!
Padfoot: Hein! *evades me*
This goes on for some time before I eventually tire and lose my desire to make contact with a slobbery bone.
In other news, I am going to eat a coconut tonight. Booyah!
So he looks older, and his bladder is certainly acting older. But Padfoot's spirit is as young as ever. He still barks like a fiend and runs for the door at the slightest hint or noise of an outside intruder. And he's still got it in his to play, bless his fuzzy heart.
I let him back in for the second or third time, and thankfully he'd finished his business because he scampered into the family room to play with his bone. I could hear him scuffling about from my stand(sit)point in the kitchen and felt the urge to play along. What follows is our ferocious skit and banter.
Padfoot: Eineinein. (aka *chompchompchomp*)
Me: Aarrrr!
Padfoot: *pauses instantly, ears perking*
Me: *jumps up and jets past the kitchen table and into the family room* AARRR!!!
Padfoot: *firmly grabs his bone and whirls around to deflect my sabotage attempt* Grrah!
Me: *plants self on floor space opposite him and challenges him* Eerrrrr.
Padfoot: Eineineinein. *chews on bone to assert his dominance of it*
Me: *slaps at bone, trying to knock it out from between his paws*
Padfoot: *snaps it up and darts off to the other side of the family room* Hein hein hein!
Me: *chases after him on all fours* AR AR!! *scoots into him to get closer to bone* Arrrrrr!
Padfoot: Hein! *evades me*
This goes on for some time before I eventually tire and lose my desire to make contact with a slobbery bone.
In other news, I am going to eat a coconut tonight. Booyah!