Ozzy and I have finally reached an understanding in our relationship.
As long as I…
- Pay attention to him 80% of the time, he’ll entertain himself the other 20% of the time.
- Forget to clean the litter box, he’ll clean it for me.
- Give him a treat occasionally after I say, “Drop it,” he’ll drop my stolen undies and socks on command.
- Take him out back first, he won’t make me bag his poo on our walks.
- Let him chase Esme occasionally, he’ll sometimes sit with her quietly.
When Kiefer was gone, Ozzy and I have spent a lot of time together. A lot. Almost too much.
Just when I think I’m about to lose my patience (and my voice), he plops down beside me, puts his head in my lap, and licks my hand.
And then I forgive him for the 5 minutes earlier with him running around the house with undies swinging from his mouth and chanting, “Panties! Glorious panties!” (Yes, Ozzy can talk.)
Favorite Comment From Last Post: There were so many awesome comments on the last post that I can’t pick one. Go read all of them!