And I don’t mean my feet. Hahaha, get it. “My dogs are barking…”
Well, okay, never mind.
My dog, dogs, you know them Pal and Lola, bark. Yep. Not all the time, but Pal lays by the front window looking out, then goes berserk when something goes by: another dog, a person on a bike way, way down the road, the school bus, and the piece de resistance (snicker,) a squirrel.
Yet when Lola first moved in with us two months ago. She didn’t bark at things passing by the window. No siree Bob, she didn’t. But Pal taught her. Nice doggy.
She has this shrill kind of bark that makes my heart pound. But I’m so happy she’s participating in family traditions, I hardly mind.
When I open the back door from them to run out and bark, Lola fires into the yard with Pal, rou-rou-rouing away.
Pal looks at her, she looks up at him, “Isn’t this fun?”
They are good friends. Nothing like the turmoil with Jack and Pal. I couldn’t have handled another second of that gig.
Pal seems to endure Lola, if not appreciate her at times.
Red, on the other hand, is still an ornery cat and behaves as if all the world is his on a silver platter.
Off to Fire Dweller. Got to fill those “bowls!” Rev 8
Comments 1
I’m sure glad that Pal doesn’t treat Lola like he did poor Jack. Guess it’s because she’s female??
Now Pal needs to teach her how to bark and not yipe :o)
Looking forward to meeting Lola one of these days.
Love Mom