The AIG has this wonderful little dog — let’s call him Seamus. Seamus is pretty much Perfect Dog — friendly, respectful, cuddly, well-behaved, slobber-free, possessed of incredible bladder control — but he’s also got these soulful eyes. And, if he has one weakness, it’s his stinginess with kisses. So, when he woke us with kisses this morning, and deep, downcast brown eyes, the question was: what happened to the poor thing last night’s treats and cozy climbing under the covers and this morning’s plaintive paean for approval?
There’s only one possible explanation: my talking pet whispered mean things all morning while we slept.
After all, how does a little dog protect himself against an animal who can talk? The poor thing is the only one in the whole household who can’t use words. And Junior is a crafty, crafty bird who knows a lot more words than he use — and takes advantage of that to use the exact, unexpected phrase at the right moment. I’m pretty sure he’s been doing just that to poor Seamus lately. Yesterday, for instance, Seamus and Junior were in my bedroom, while the AIG and I were fixing lunch; suddenly, Seamus barked, and when we checked the two out, Junior was looking very bashful in his cage, hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar-like.
What do you do when your parrot harasses your dog?