Finally, it is my turn to hold forth. Last week I told a story about puppies and change. Today I would like to speak about how everything in my family’s apartment belongs to me, and when I grant permission for others to share.
First, my mommy belongs to me. The rule is that when I am climbing all over her and licking her face and chewing on her nose, other dogs should not come over. if they do, I growl and give a fierce look. If Kessie persists, we have a little play fight. I’m really not all that serious. There are times when I must be held very close by my mommy, and hugged and kissed. Usually no one interrupts.
Ok, Matilda’s red bed. She leaves a lot of spots open when she is lying down on her very large dog bed. I like to make use of the open spaces, and Matilda doesn’t seem to mind. So really, it is my bed.
I do share. Next week I might show you a picture of me and Kessie in a very tiny dog bed. He had just come to us, and was a little shy, but he squeezed into this teensy weensy bed with me, and I fell in love with him. I rested my head on him. Mom sent the picture to his foster mommy (where he lived for six months), and she cried.
Livvie, are you sure you’re not part Greyhound? Your views seem very familiar!
Bunny
Well Bunny, mom asked me that very thing, when Matilda and I used to play, because I was faster than Matilda. So I must be a 50 mph couch jumper, rather than greyhounds and their 45 mph couch potato moniker,
Livvie