Last week was a pleasant one, as I once again returned to the residence of Mr. No Claws, and that hilariously stupid dog. The week was filled with well-earned battle scars and bragging rights, as No Claws and I scrapped on several occasions. He’s a funny old grump, and I think he’s forgiven me for the time I ripped a large part of his fur out.
Upon my return to the regular pen, I immediately took part in several activities. One of those activities – one of my favourites actually – is watching either Tree One or Two wash dishes. I nestle into the basket next to them, and try to be annoying as possible. Their frustration doesn’t build up to a full blown arm-waving rage attack, like when I chew cables out of their reach, but it’s still fun. Getting a close look at the running water is also fascinating. I hate getting sprayed in the face by that ridiculous spray bottle the Trees use, but it’s really hard for me to avoid any situations that involve running water. I often tease myself, thinking I could run under it at times, but I chicken out at the last second. One day, I will be the master of running water, and perhaps I will even stand up to the spray bottle. Thinking far ahead though, baby steps Eleanor, baby steps.
Time to play fetch now. If the Trees don’t cooperate I’m going to bite them so hard.