Wilbur's always growling
It's his default setting when I'm at home, but not so much when I'm out. The dog sitter that stayed with them on Saturday said he didn't growl at Banzai once, which I find mind-boggling, since the only time he's not growling when I'm around is when he's sleeping. The sitter also tried to get pics of Banzai, but every time he pointed the camera at Banzai outside, Banzai would hide behind a tree or something. Mama's Lil Fucker is afraid of some really ridiculous stuff.
Wilbur was growling at Banzai a few days ago and I told him to stop it. He continued. I told him to knock it off. He kept growling. I told him to stop being such a buttmunch, and he went quiet. Buttmunch? What's that? I walked away smiling while he tried to figure out what means buttmunch. He knows butt, but he's never heard buttmunch. Ha. Point for Mama.
He gets annoyed with Banzai when Banzai's either touching him, standing too close to him, or just lying too nearby on the floor. It's become effective lately to tell Wilbur that Banzai wants to be close to him because he loves him. That almost always makes him stop growling and put his head down on the floor with a "hmph".
Gracie cat curled up next to Wilbur's rump the other day in my office, leaning most of her body against him. I didn't say anything for awhile. When I got up to leave, I told Wilbur it was really nice of him to let Gracie be sleepy by his butt. He turned his head quickly to look back at his rump. Ack! ACK! He stood up like he was shocked. She blinked at him, still sleepy. I said, "What, like you didn't know she was there?" He's such a weirdo sometimes.
He let Banzai rest his head on his rump the other day and did not growl at him at all. He got praise for that, but I'm pretty sure Banzai was just doing it to push his buttons. He'd put a paw down first over Wilbur's tail to hold him in place, then shoved his nose under his tail for a good sniff, and Wilbur just let it happen. I think sometimes he just gets tired of being irritable at Banzai. A few days ago, Banzai was being particularly annoying and J told Banzai, "Stop it, you're stressing Wilbur out" and Wilbur did the "hell yeah!" headshake of emphatic agreement and followed it up with a thank-you kiss to J's hand. I'd gotten Wilbur to stop growling a couple of years ago by hitting him with "You're stressing Mama out" and he shut up while he tried to figure out what I meant and I was able to get to sleep. Apparently, he figured it out and remembered.
I told a friend a couple of weeks ago this story but don't think I wrote about it:
Wilbur was lying in my office, looking like a hot mess because he's shedding so badly and has tufts sticking up everywhere and looks like a red sheep that's been sheared by a clown on acid. A friend that didn't know Wilbur very well was in the office with me. I asked Wilbur if I could brush him. He growled and frowned at me. No, you cannot. I said, "There's cheese in it for you." His head swivelled around. I'd said a magic word. "You like cheese." He licked his lips and wagged his tail. Yes, I like cheese! "So if you let me brush you ::growl:: you can have .... CHEESE!" ::lick chops, tail wag::. "You want cheese, right?" He pushed himself up off the floor halfway to give me his best sincere face and another tail wag to let me know how much he really truly wants cheese. "So we can go outside and brush you!" He lay back down, frowned and growled. "So no cheese?" ::lick chops, no tail wag:: "Brush?" ::frown::. I went back and forth like that for a few minutes while my friend watched in amazement.
Tory, The Other Rat, died last week. She was blind, had trouble dragging her tumor around, and seemed to be having some neurological issues. We were going to make an appointment with the vet for last Friday to take her in, and a friend had given me a couple of morphine tablets in case I could figure out a way to crush them up enough to hide them in food for her (she was having trouble chewing and didn't like the sedative I'd tried to hide in a spoonful of Nutella). I gave the uncrushed morphine back to the friend since we didn't need it and the rat got a dignified burial in the dumpster, along with the cold leg of chicken I'd given her as a snack earlier in the day when she was still doing things like breathing and lurching around her cage.
Wilbur was growling at Banzai a few days ago and I told him to stop it. He continued. I told him to knock it off. He kept growling. I told him to stop being such a buttmunch, and he went quiet. Buttmunch? What's that? I walked away smiling while he tried to figure out what means buttmunch. He knows butt, but he's never heard buttmunch. Ha. Point for Mama.
He gets annoyed with Banzai when Banzai's either touching him, standing too close to him, or just lying too nearby on the floor. It's become effective lately to tell Wilbur that Banzai wants to be close to him because he loves him. That almost always makes him stop growling and put his head down on the floor with a "hmph".
Gracie cat curled up next to Wilbur's rump the other day in my office, leaning most of her body against him. I didn't say anything for awhile. When I got up to leave, I told Wilbur it was really nice of him to let Gracie be sleepy by his butt. He turned his head quickly to look back at his rump. Ack! ACK! He stood up like he was shocked. She blinked at him, still sleepy. I said, "What, like you didn't know she was there?" He's such a weirdo sometimes.
He let Banzai rest his head on his rump the other day and did not growl at him at all. He got praise for that, but I'm pretty sure Banzai was just doing it to push his buttons. He'd put a paw down first over Wilbur's tail to hold him in place, then shoved his nose under his tail for a good sniff, and Wilbur just let it happen. I think sometimes he just gets tired of being irritable at Banzai. A few days ago, Banzai was being particularly annoying and J told Banzai, "Stop it, you're stressing Wilbur out" and Wilbur did the "hell yeah!" headshake of emphatic agreement and followed it up with a thank-you kiss to J's hand. I'd gotten Wilbur to stop growling a couple of years ago by hitting him with "You're stressing Mama out" and he shut up while he tried to figure out what I meant and I was able to get to sleep. Apparently, he figured it out and remembered.
I told a friend a couple of weeks ago this story but don't think I wrote about it:
Wilbur was lying in my office, looking like a hot mess because he's shedding so badly and has tufts sticking up everywhere and looks like a red sheep that's been sheared by a clown on acid. A friend that didn't know Wilbur very well was in the office with me. I asked Wilbur if I could brush him. He growled and frowned at me. No, you cannot. I said, "There's cheese in it for you." His head swivelled around. I'd said a magic word. "You like cheese." He licked his lips and wagged his tail. Yes, I like cheese! "So if you let me brush you ::growl:: you can have .... CHEESE!" ::lick chops, tail wag::. "You want cheese, right?" He pushed himself up off the floor halfway to give me his best sincere face and another tail wag to let me know how much he really truly wants cheese. "So we can go outside and brush you!" He lay back down, frowned and growled. "So no cheese?" ::lick chops, no tail wag:: "Brush?" ::frown::. I went back and forth like that for a few minutes while my friend watched in amazement.
Tory, The Other Rat, died last week. She was blind, had trouble dragging her tumor around, and seemed to be having some neurological issues. We were going to make an appointment with the vet for last Friday to take her in, and a friend had given me a couple of morphine tablets in case I could figure out a way to crush them up enough to hide them in food for her (she was having trouble chewing and didn't like the sedative I'd tried to hide in a spoonful of Nutella). I gave the uncrushed morphine back to the friend since we didn't need it and the rat got a dignified burial in the dumpster, along with the cold leg of chicken I'd given her as a snack earlier in the day when she was still doing things like breathing and lurching around her cage.