The relationship between DT and little Iddy has always been, well, guarded at best. Now it seems that the ‘murder of the mutt’ changed all that… the ladies seem to have bonded, paw in paw they lay on the couch, undoubtedly hurting from the fight- anybody who ever beat up anybody will know what I mean- but there they sleep, snoring and farting and totally happy. but , three is a crowd and poor Elvis is decidedly not well come in this new feminist structure, he looks on, snorts ambles over to me, lays his head on my knee and mourns with a sigh and a barely concealed whine….( I tell him never to mind those bitches, and pet him, and he almost believes me..)
When Iddy is not sharing the couch with DT, she decided that I need protection. So there she lays in front of the so very steep stairs that leads from the loft to the restaurant. And it does get very dark here at night and of course she does not tell me that she is guarding me and lays there... several times now I have been sent flying: into my library- section south east asian history, - plenty of hard covers- ouch…
And Iddy does grow, ever so often I think, that she is small for her age, and barely grows, and then the next morning it seems as if she shot up an inch over night. The collar has been let out to the last notch to accommodate her quadruple chins, and she is almost as high as Elvis, though not nearly as wide nor as heavy.
For a long time she was able to sleep under the tables at the coffee shop, when she got too big for that she moved up onto the footrest/ newspaper shelf under the table. Now, well she still fits but it is a tight one: paws hang out on one side, the tail on the other, then her head goes outboard... needless to say, we all have to hang tightly to our beers while this maneuvering goes on, until finally, she still somehow manages to fit. Still. For how long that will last? We wonder…
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