Okay, it’s not a cage, it’s an X-Pen. And we spent a lot of time in there with him… he stayed with us for a few days and it was just easier to have the twelve-week-old corralled in a fairly enclosed area.
Inevitably, he had contact with the rather disgruntled cat. MaeMae was especially bent outta shape due to the recent departure of the year old lovely girl we had for a month.
MaeMae: Hurrmph. He doesn’t appear intoxicated. Annoying as hell, but not intoxicated.
Me, cutting the feline side eye: what are you talking about?
MaeMae: You said he was drunk. Intoxicated. Squiffy. Three sheets to the wind.
Puppy: wassshe talking about
MaeMae: see, he even slurs his words. Blotto.
Puppy: what’s blotto
Me: The cat’s condition, evidently.
MaeMae: YOU SAID. Don’t deny it.
Puppy, looking at the cat: Hi I’m Pickles
Cat, glaring at me: SEE??
Me, rolling my eyes: That’s his NAME.
MaeMae: They named him drunkard?
This little pupper’s a cutie, although we weren’t able to take him out walking or whatever as he hadn’t been vaccinated yet. He only stayed a few nights, but he’s another one of those dogs who just wants to be cuddled and make people happy.
His bliss is laying on his back between your legs having his tummy rubbed. Sitting in the sunshine is a close second.
While he’s not that large yet, his paws indicate he’s going to be a big, big lad. I’m guessing he’s going to be 80 pounds of gawd-I-love-you insisting he needs to sit in your lap. Good luck dissuading him.
Examining Misadventures 