Mom and I have been discussing the demise of my battery charger. We suspect Dooley had much to do with it. My camera is his arch nemesis. It was clearly a desperate act, devoid of any real forethought because the UPS man delivered my lovely new charger yesterday. Little man watched as I unpacked it and I can't be sure, but I thought I heard a little sigh huff out of him when I clicked the battery in place and the tiny lights all sprung to life.
Its not an unwarranted hatred. But you know, what can I tell you? He's too damn cute so he has no one to blame but himself.
Imagine my surprise and delight when I walked into the drugstore this morning and saw an animated plushie westie holding a christmas stocking in his mouth and wagging his tail (which is impaled with a jingle bell, slightly sadistic but adorable all at the same time) while it barks merrily. Well...I just had to bring it home and introduce it to the life size version of itself (minus the impaled tail of course).
The meeting went as expected:
My hand in the last shot is me attempting to keep him from dragging the wiggling plushie to the floor. Its a decoration, not a toy and the last thing I want to do is give him a zappy. Sort of defeats the purpose of bringing the cute stuffed thing home.
What I didn't get a picture of was me chasing him into the living room yelling to give it back. But I did and now the little furball (plushie, not little man) is perched on top the TV where he (little man, not plushie) gives it dirty looks every time he walks by.
Ahhhhhhh....so good to have the camera back in working order.
Art tomorrow, promise.