This morning, after returning from a long walk with the one named Daddy, I settled on the bathroom floor for a rest. Sometimes I like leaning my back against one wall and stretching my legs to touch the opposite wall. Cozy.
But, when the one called Mommy came in after me, I politely got up to leave so she could have the bathroom to herself.
Imagine my surprise when she followed me out. Although I clearly expressed my desire to find a new place to lay my weary bones, she grabbed my collar and dragged me into the kitchen. Um, no, I didn’t want to go to the kitchen. I was tired and wanted to nap. A little respect please?!
Then she kept me up on all paws.
I knew this was trouble when I felt her fingers sifting through the fur at the nape of my neck, cool air blowing across the exposed skin. Ugh. However, she said those magic words, “when we’re done, I’ll give you a treat.”
You see, I really really like treats. I began to wonder what it would be this time. A rawhide? Some cheese? Some meat? Or was she just going to take a handful of dog food and try to pass that off as a treat?
While I was distracted, pondering the delicacy waiting for me, the one named Daddy dripped cold wet stuff right…on…my…skin. Brrrrrr. Not fair!
I bet the bunnies who live next door don’t have to put up with this nonsense!
As soon as she lifted her hands off my body, I shook and shook until I felt dry again. Then I escaped to the living room.
Partway there I remembered, Hey, what about that treat?
One pointed look over my shoulder was all it took to remind her that she wasn’t upholding her end of the bargain.
I got a rawhide. Not bad.
[Last year Pettigrew had fleas so this year we decided to prophylactically treat him. Luckily we only have to do it once a month.]