conversations with a westie

Me: Dooley...Dooley? What are you doing? Hey! Knock it off!

Dooley: {{silence/dirty look}}

Me: Come here Dooley, let me check your eye.

Dooley: {{firm stance in middle of living room that leads human to wonder if he is cemented to the subfloor}}

Me: I'll give you a cookie, come here.

Dooley: {{thoughtful consideration...slow approach}}

Cessation of dialogue as human attempts to wrestle wiggling westie to the ground for eye check...which should be easier due to sedatives in westie's bloodstream but westie has impressive ability to adjust quickly to medication, thus making eye check a sporting event.

Me: Quit pouting.

Dooley: {{hanging limply from lap of human, resigned and defeated as more junk is squirted into his eye}}

Me: {{long rambling explanation of why the torture continues and is necessary...yes, human believes he understands and is just being difficult because hey, everyone needs a hobby, right?}}

Dooley: {{contemplating escape from human's lap so that he can wipe the side of his face along the edge of the sofa - this is revenge since the medication is ointment based - stains on the sofa seem like a fitting payback}}

Me: Come on little man, let's go get some cheese.

Dooley: {{eagerly follows, westie is aware medication is in cheese but its cheese, so its all good}}

Me: {{swipe wildly (yet carefully) at westie's face in an attempt to blot away medication running down his fur, wonder what he would look like bald}}

Human and wesite stare at each other with determined resignation, wondering who will crack first. Human decides to relish in triumph over wesite for the day, westie decides tomorrow is another day and anything is possible.