One thing that makes me sad and frustrated is that there are times when he clearly wants to play. Like he’ll come over and bring you his duck. But what does he expect you to do with the duck? It’s an unanswerable question. If you throw it, he’ll go get it. But, if you throw it again, he sulks away, like “Well, if you don’t like my duck, then I don’t know what to do with you.” Like he thinks your tossing his duck away to get rid of it. But, if you hold it up, like maybe he wants to jump at it, he just sits expectantly.
How do you want to be played with, dog? How?
Today, I had a bone for him and the Butcher was moving his laundry around in the garage. Sonnyboy walked right by me and went and hung out with the Butcher in the garage. Only when the Butcher came back in and walked by me did the dog seem even remotely interested in the bone.
I guess it should upset me how much he loves the Butcher, but I find it kind of charming and enlightening. I mean, there’s no reason for it. Not that the Butcher’s not awesome. But Sonnyboy’s love for the Butcher is beyond all reason. It’s a kind of joyful willingness to not give a fuck if love is returned that I find kind of mind-blowing.
Still I wish he were more of a cuddler. Because I could use someone to lay on the couch with me and commiserate over how shitty I still feel.
Tiny Cat Pants 