Dear Kid,
Being the kind of great mom that I am, I decided to play with Booker a little bit this morning.
“Come here, baby,” I called to him. Ever hopeful that there might be food involved, he trotted over to see what I wanted.
“Want to play?” I asked him. He stuck his head in my lap so I could easily scratch the back of his neck. I obliged and asked again, “Do you want to play?” He nudged my hand in a gentle rebuke that I had neglected scratching duties. I scratched.
After a minute or two, I grabbed a toy out of his bin. ‘Oh, boy!’ I could hear his brain cells say, ‘It’s my toy!’
I threw the toy across the room and he went scampering after it. It’s not an enormous room but when you have little bitty midget dachshund legs, there is plenty of room to scamper. He pounced on the toy with glee, gave me a look to say ‘Thanks, Mom!’ and lay down to chew on the toy.
“Bring it here, Booker,” I called, “Come on baby.” Important chewing continued.
I coaxed. He chewed.
I finally pulled another toy out of the bin. “Look what I have,” I sang. His head popped up. Another toy, oh boy! He came running over. “I need the toy,” I told him. He looked at the one in my hand to explain that I had the toy. “No goofy,” I said, “the one over there.” And I pointed across the room. He looked hopefully at the one I was holding. “Go get the other toy,” I said and pointed again. After a minute, he resigned himself to getting the first toy with a set of his face that clearly said, “You could probably have gotten it yourself and if I were a teenager, you can bet I’d be rolling my eyes.”
Once he brought it back, I threw the second toy. Being well trained, I pulled another toy out of the bin. He promptly brought me toy #2 and I threw toy #3. When he brought that back I threw toy #1 toward the front door. Booker went skidding across the wood floor, screeching to a halt at the last minute. He picked up the toy, and trotted back (via the carpet route). He looked to see if I had something to trade for the toy in his mouth. When he saw I did, he dropped his and waited for the throw.
Scamper, retrieve, throw another toy. Repeat.
After we’d done this about 6 times, he sat down smack in the middle of the room, dropped the toy, and scratched his ear. He enjoyed that so much he scratched the other side.
Done scratching, he picked up his toy, gave me a look, and trotted over to the window (toy in mouth) to see what was going on in the world. I was not forgotten, I was ignored. I think he’s been taking lessons in How to Snub Humans from a cat somewhere.
I got up to go see about breakfast.
Eventually he came looking for me with a wounded expression that said, “I was just looking outside for a minute—where did you go???”
I got the last word (so to speak)–I left out all his toys. He’ll have to clean them up later. Assuming no one trips over them in the meantime.
I’m off to put some of my own toys away.
Love, Mom
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