OK LUCKY, YOU A TREADING A THIN LINE HERE …
Back from a late coffee and Lucky is waiting for me. He looks hungry. I give him some water, and he slurps it up thirstily, but basically I think he wants food. I don’t have any, not even for myself, and I explain this to him.
He lies down, miffed, in the doorway to my bedroom and refuses to move. I go and seek solace at my computer, which is usually the signal for Lucky to trot off in search of more entertaining, or at least more nutritious venues.
After 30 minutes or so, I drift out. Lucky has indeed left, but not before leaving a passive aggressive message that he expected to be fed, and wasn’t, and he is a tad displeased. I go into the bedroom – which he normally never enters – and discover mild chaos. My pillows are strewn willy-nilly all over the bed, the bolster is similarly disarranged and wet from a mild, yet not destructive chewing, and I discover that he has also been exploring my bedside table.
My little plastic bottle of eye-drops has been chomped – for entertainment and stress-relief obviously – and has squirted saline all over the bed covers, and no doubt over Lucky as well.
The upside is that Lucky now has the brightest, clearest eyes in Renon. Perhaps that was all that he really wanted – a bit of doggy spa treatment …
* by Vyt Karazija