Now that it is warming up, Peeg is getting much more active. So when we got home from Mardi Gras on Sunday, and I left the front door open for the new pup to come in, I got more than I bargained for. By the time I had all my stuff unloaded, Bocephus had waddled up the front steps and into the living room. He absolutely adores that cowhide rug. Every time he comes in, he goes in there and rubs his tummy on it. It makes you feel dirty to watch him do it, like you might be interrupting some very personal moment. It is funny as hell though, because sometimes he tips over while he is doing it.
And Charlie the Cat was not about to be left out of things. That goes to show you how ballsy he is, it would never cross his mind that walking into the path of a new dog is not likely in his best interests. And somehow, all that cockiness works for him, as mostly everyone leaves him be.
Meanwhile, short stuff has gotten a name. Or we think she has....we are trying to call her Cinder. Or I am. Barry calls her Shit Stain, or Browneye, or Charcoal, or Cinder Block, or some permutation of all of the above. She does not care what he calls her, as she is completely in love with him.
Isnt that how it always is? He does not want her here, so she has fallen head over heels for him. And because she is so precious, he is falling back, just like he always does. This is her laying in the floor by his chair. Of all the places she could choose, she wants to be by him. Her best day ever has been when she got to sit in his lap on Sunday nite--she was beside herself.
She is even winning over the main man Slater. Although you can not tell that from this pic--he is giving her the very suspicious side-eye. This whole get on the couch with him thing absolutely disgusted him, but he is trying really hard to not be a tool about it and tolerate her. I hear they even played together in the front yard while I was at work on Monday. She jumped in bed with him on Monday morning, and the look on his face was absolutely priceless. He stared hard at the wall, and refused to acknowledge her while she flopped around in the bed like a crazy, wiggling and knocking herself all over trying to cuddle up to Barry. That is a huge tribute to Slater's attempt to be good, as he believes the bed is his kingdom, and we kind of let him think that. I know he likely wanted to pop her head right off, but he just drilled his eyes into the wall and refused to have anything to do with her. I could tell he was getting angry, so I was very proud of him when he decided to just get up and go outside instead of get nasty with her.