...these two are never this still of their own free will. They are temporarily trying to sit and be good in the frantic, panting hope that they will receive the Milk Bones I am dangling above my head. The Milk Bones, in fact, are what they both are staring at so intently.
Lokie, the black dog (a lab), belongs to Christina, our house guest. You'd think this would be a wonderful opportunity for FurGirl to bond with and play with one of her own kind. But no. FurGirl, in fact, doesn't know she is a dog. When Lokie tries to play and/or roughhouse with her, she looks at him like WTF? Sometimes she runs over to me as if to say, "Mommie! There's this black furry thing with four legs? It sniffs me? What is it and why is it bothering me? Help! Also, do you happen to have bacon?"
Last night, during a particularly aggressive attempt at playing by Lokie, FurGirl startled us all by raring up and giving a loud, vicious big-girl bark. This is a sound I've only ever heard her make a couple of times before in her whole life, in times of extreme agitation, usually when she feels threatened or thinks I am threatened.
You can see FurGirl is freshly shorn and sporting her warm weather hair-do. You can see her actual pink skin through the fur on her chest. She LOVES to be shorn and is, I think, spoiled on it, to the point that she goes around panting pathetically at the first sign of warm weather if she has a thick coat of fur.
Satan is off again out of town again--woohoo! Christina and I, in a fit of christian charity, spent the morning tidying up Satan's balconey and then moving his plants outside for him. He HAS been awfully busy lately.
I continue to suffer through a series of sinus headaches no doubt brought on by the incredibly high mold count coupled with the thick pollen floating through the air.
Ouch.
