Monday, March 16, 2009


I think Whiskey is playing games with me.  Last night she turned up her nose at her evening dosage of cleverly disguised drugs.  As I stood fuming by her full bucket of expensive meds she looked at me with her big liquid eyes, reached her nose out and rubbed her snout on my leg.  When that didn't appease my temper (I was still standing there with steam coming out of my ears.), she shuffled a step closer and began to nicely "groom" my arm and shoulder.  When I still wouldn't give her any attention, instead staring daggers at the bucket, she brought it up a notch by nosing my cheek ever so gently.  

"Why, Why??" I asked her.  "Why can't you just eat your bloody oats twice a day?  What makes these oats different than the ones this morning?"  Of course she didn't tell me anything, but when I took those SAME oats out this morning, she happily ate them.  Grrrr!  How can such a lovable creature be so difficult to deal with?

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