Poor Tobie…

Normally he’s philosophical about the Monday morning water run. When he sees me fiddling with empty water bottles he knows he’s not going with, and he accepts that without undue fuss. Normally.

But this morning he decided a little negotiation couldn’t hurt

Yeah, he wanted me to know very clearly that if I needed company on that long Jeep ride I take at least once a week, he was there for me. Once the special stinky treat came out (he gets half a Pupperoni as a consolation prize) he knew the jig was up and went back to his bed.

But that never stops him from rushing into the bedroom as soon as I’m out the door…

…so that he can hurl guilt rays at me through the window as I pass. 😉

And this morning, for the first time in a long time, he at least considered retaliation. I found my lined gloves on the floor by the counter where I had left them – but for a wonder they weren’t all slobbery or chewed to shreds. He got over obsessively chewing up my leather stuff a long time ago, so I’m tempted to believe he did that just to register protest without actual punishment. I dunno: He can be pretty smart that way.

About Joel

You shouldn't ask these questions of a paranoid recluse, you know.
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3 Responses to Poor Tobie…

  1. Terrapod says:

    Love that little raccoon door on your main entry. No way Toby fits that but I suppose it could be used as a porthole..

  2. Ben says:

    I think it was Little Bear who used to lay with his nose sticking out that little door. Cute!

To the stake with the heretic!