I heard loud footfalls and looked around.
Someone wanted to be noticed.
|Reenactment. Couldn't capture the moment quickly enough!!|
The great hunter approached... with his fresh kill in his mouth...
There is a toy box upstairs in the office holding overflow toys. Less intriguing toys. Toys that just didn't quite make the cut. Periodically Cole visits this box, and brings one down.
The "chosen one"
On this night it was the fleece lamb with a working squeaker. Valuable working squeaker. "They just don't make squeakers like they used to", says Cole.
He stalked past me, fleece prey firmly in the poodle jaws of death, gave me a glance as he stalked by...
Cole:" ha! Got it! you can't have it, it's mine, I found it, I hunted and gathered and am bringing it back to my downstairs bed to tease you with. Forget it! No touch! Leave it Momma!"
Momma: "Awwww! want to play? here let me have it and I'll throw.... oh...."
Cole dropped it, said fine have it then, and that was it. The found lamb was instantly valueless and unwanted.
Apparently it was to make me WANT it not for me to TAKE it even in play. Sheesh!
If Cole is going to make up all the rules he'd better let me know faster next time.
Enjoy Cole's stories? There are lots more under the label, poodle puppy ponderings ==>