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I just realized what those mysterious thumps I've been hearing are.
Buster takes his Bone up on the bed, drops it on the floor, jumps down, picks it up, and jumps back up. Lather, rinse, repeat.
While I'm on the subject: we've - or, perhaps, they've - developed another ritual. Every night, around 9 PM (usually just after I've stripped down for bed), Gracie comes racing up and dancing. I sigh, grab my robe and put it on, and follow her. Buster bounces up, then races away to grab one of his toys (currently, the Bone). Gracie leads me, in her back-and-forth thiswaycomeon manner, to the door to the back porch. Buster waits in the living room, worrying at his toy. I open the door and Gracie leaps out to the back porch door. I glance at Buster, and he grabs his toy and races after her. They stand there wiggling at the porch door until I open it. Gracie shoots off to a far corner of the yard and then races along the length of the fence; Buster trots out, drops the toy, and begins to mooch around. I toss the toy; he wanders over and noses at it. Gracie's still romping around; maybe she dashes toward Buster and they play for a moment before she takes off again and he returns to his toy. Finally, she comes scurrying back to the porch door; I open it again, and she goes back into the house. Buster grabs his toy and follows. I give them treats, and we all go to bed.
Last night, when he came back in, Buster picked up the Bone by one end so it dangled like a cigar, waggling back and forth as he trotted in.
Bringers of joy.
Buster takes his Bone up on the bed, drops it on the floor, jumps down, picks it up, and jumps back up. Lather, rinse, repeat.
While I'm on the subject: we've - or, perhaps, they've - developed another ritual. Every night, around 9 PM (usually just after I've stripped down for bed), Gracie comes racing up and dancing. I sigh, grab my robe and put it on, and follow her. Buster bounces up, then races away to grab one of his toys (currently, the Bone). Gracie leads me, in her back-and-forth thiswaycomeon manner, to the door to the back porch. Buster waits in the living room, worrying at his toy. I open the door and Gracie leaps out to the back porch door. I glance at Buster, and he grabs his toy and races after her. They stand there wiggling at the porch door until I open it. Gracie shoots off to a far corner of the yard and then races along the length of the fence; Buster trots out, drops the toy, and begins to mooch around. I toss the toy; he wanders over and noses at it. Gracie's still romping around; maybe she dashes toward Buster and they play for a moment before she takes off again and he returns to his toy. Finally, she comes scurrying back to the porch door; I open it again, and she goes back into the house. Buster grabs his toy and follows. I give them treats, and we all go to bed.
Last night, when he came back in, Buster picked up the Bone by one end so it dangled like a cigar, waggling back and forth as he trotted in.
Bringers of joy.
