This morning Ray was feeling very refreshed after sleeping for about 12 hours straight. He started outside, playing with his outside rope, a marrow bone, and the watering can which he had hidden in his grave the weekend before; then moved inside to play with:
- my flip flops
- a belt
- a little plastic cat ball with a bell in it (which will never be the same)
- his inside rope (the one Hannah sent him)
- the previously-chewed eyeglasses case
- the toilet bowl brush handle (all that is left of the old toilet bowl brush)
- the weasel ball
- a felted bowl
- a knitted gauge square
- his tennis ball
- a cat "wand" with bells on it (one of his favorites)
- my socks
- the basket that holds his toys (he is slowly destroying the handle. It's his basket, I'm not going to stop him)
Some of the things that he tried to get but were off limits
- my coffee
- Gregg's coffee
- Gregg's breakfast (eggs and prosciutto)
- a ball of yarn that I had spent two hours the night before untangling (guess how it got tangled...)
- a street atlas
Notice that we're not very strict parents. Most of the things that he plays with don't really get damaged. But paper products, food, and balls of yarn are not some of those things.
After about an hour of non-stop movement, I decided that maybe a long walk was in order. So we all went.
No day is complete for Ray if he doesn't get to meet new people and/or dogs. This day was no exception. On his walk, Ray met John with his two dogs Boomer and Zooey. Boomer, a Chow mix, took to Ray just fine. Zooey, a huge Italian Mastiff, not so much. Ray was crushed, as he usually is when his charm fails him.
I think he should have tried the tried-and-true Ray technique of yelling in her ear. Gets 'em (almost) every time. Or makes them deaf, whichever comes first.
|Zooey, John, and Boomer|
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