the waiting game

It's no secret that Baxter tends to move a little more slowly when it's hot out. Waiting, ever so patiently, for squirrel sounds. Why exhaust all that effort runnin around and gettin all panty for nuthin, right? And so he waits, and listens, knowing that sooner or later a squirrel will reveal itself.

So when Mister Ptooey ptooed his tummy acid reduction snack yesterday morning, I decided it was time to take a cue from Baxter's very own game book. No more naughty Mister Ptooey, nosirree. I want my sweet little Schlomo Schneebly back. Especially since the bag of chickeny kibble that he formerly loved so much was still pretty much full.

Lunch, I decided, was gonna be a little late for this schnubby boy.

Eleven o'clock. The sound and smell of sauteing onions fill the air as I start french onion soup for dinner. Noon. Tiny chumley suns himself in the family room while I finish cutting some binding for a quilt and eat lunch. Now, normally, chumley would get his lunch after I finish mine but today, the dishes are washed and I go back to sewing. Little boy is still sunning himself, unaware that his lunch is not forthcoming. One o'clock. "Heyy, aren't u forgettin sumptin?" his cocked head asks when he trundles up to me. I pet him on the head and we play, but lunch is nowhere to be found.

Puppy dog eyes greet me at one forty-five ish, and I decide it is time to see if my waiting game worked. After Baxter performs a few moves, I extend my hand, filled with chickeny kibble. Without a thought, tiny chumley accepts his food and gratefully chomps it down, bright eyed and ready and waiting for his next set of orders.

Ahh yes, my little boy is back! Which can only mean one thing now really. Now that the war of wills is over and Mister Ptooey is gone, there's a trip to the pet store in my future. To get more fishy nuggets. Cuz every sweet little Schlomo Schneebly deserves to be spoiled.