This morning Bugsy ate a little. Fang choked down his pill. Eventually. DING!
The boys are on the move. Fight-fans, this new kid’s paw-work owes it all to Muhammed Ali. Bugs isn’t buying it. He’s got Fang on the ropes. No – Fang wriggles free! Bugs stalks off to his corner. Fang runs around.
Repeat I don’t know how many times.
Here he’s looking tragically put-upon. With good reason. Shortly after, Fang charged him full-out – you know the move I mean? where the front paws, outstretched to catch the prey in a fearsome clap, are flung out to either side.
Bugs was cool with it!
But not for long. After various thunderings-around, pausing with Bugs raring up in the prairie-dog posture, leaving front paws free for the whap-fest, and Fang bowing to his will –
The boys made full wrestling contact. I ran into Base Camp to find them writhing around in a deadly embrace. I broke things up –
But the match went on into the other room. Bugs had Fang pinned under the credenza. When Fang cried out – with fear? I don’t think with pain – that was a time-out call. Fang back in Base Camp and Bugs back in Fang’s bed.
Where Bugs remains at time of writing. I’m glad to see more life in him today.
But that new bottle of Peacemaker better get here fast, I’m thinking.
Fang is stretched out on my chest at the moment, making writing this post extremely difficult. Will he ever stop wiggling?
He’s still biting – got me good a minute ago. But he also licked my hand.
A mouthy boy.