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Aug. 17th, 2006
I think I can safely say that Murphy's appetite has returned.
Ben didn't get any supper tonight; he chose petting over food, and was quite adamant about it. (He hasn't gone completely hungry; he's had several treats and some table scraps.)
Ben loves the pettins; he writhes and moans, almost catlike. I swear he'd purr if he knew how. If I stop petting, he'll bat at me with his paws until I either resume or shove him away.
He likes to cuddle, too, sometimes. There's been more than one occasion on which he's sprawled out, head in my lap, and managed to stuff his entire left foreleg into my pants pocket without my noticing it - not, at least, until I try to stand up. Extricating him without ripping my pants is a delicate exercise.
Sometimes, too, when we're at the door just before a walk, he'll be dancing in front of me and get his leg stuck in my pocket. When that happens I have to quickly drop into a crouch to avoid either tearing the pocket open or breaking his fool leg. Fortunately, I have very good reflexes...
Ben didn't get any supper tonight; he chose petting over food, and was quite adamant about it. (He hasn't gone completely hungry; he's had several treats and some table scraps.)
Ben loves the pettins; he writhes and moans, almost catlike. I swear he'd purr if he knew how. If I stop petting, he'll bat at me with his paws until I either resume or shove him away.
He likes to cuddle, too, sometimes. There's been more than one occasion on which he's sprawled out, head in my lap, and managed to stuff his entire left foreleg into my pants pocket without my noticing it - not, at least, until I try to stand up. Extricating him without ripping my pants is a delicate exercise.
Sometimes, too, when we're at the door just before a walk, he'll be dancing in front of me and get his leg stuck in my pocket. When that happens I have to quickly drop into a crouch to avoid either tearing the pocket open or breaking his fool leg. Fortunately, I have very good reflexes...