The guardian of the running shoes is on duty.
Pete ponders the person crawling on the floor in front of him, during a rare moment of calm.
Here, Pete gives Pepper a bite in her neck. I’m pretty sure he’s just playing, but he’s strong and fast and agile and hasn’t learned to play nicely. Pepper is a big lumbering hulk who really just wants to be loved. So, she’s getting the worst of it.
He’s bolder and more aggressive now, and she’s less and less tolerant of him. Friday night, he attacked her and she got howling mad at him. Someone peed on the floor. Then she chased him under the coffee table and trapped him there, growling at him, for 30 minutes. He spent the night locked in the bathroom.
He learned how to get the lid off the big metal bucket in which we store the dry cat food. We came home and the lid was on the floor and he was fat and bloated and happy. That was the only time we’ve ever seen him fail to eat all the food he could find. He’s almost managed to get it off a couple of times since. Now we keep it kept behind closed doors.
Pete likes to help with unboxing (in this case a fun new guitar pedal: an EHX Canyon).
Pepper threw up yesterday. Pete was so eager to get to it and eat it all up that he got his head under her face before she was done throwing up. So she threw up on his head. He didn’t care. He was probably thinking “Hooray, I’m covered in food!”
Pete now knows how to crawl into the recycling bin. Once in there, he cleans the insides of empty cat food cans.
Pepper had a hairball early Friday morning, while she was sleeping on the bed, at Mrs’s feet. Then we heard slurping. I assumed Pepper was cleaning herself (she’s a loud licker). Then we heard the big *thump* of Pepper jumping off the bed. But the slurping went on.
Pete was eating Pepper’s barf.
Cleaned that up. Back to sleep.
An hour later, cats are fed and I’m getting ready for work. Pepper throws up again (hairballs upset her stomach sometimes). I clean it up with some paper towels, put them in a plastic grocery bag, threw them away.
A couple of hours later, I see some white stuff under the living room table. I figure Pete has torn up some tissue paper that Mrs left out. An hour later I come back, take a closer look. It’s paper towels and torn-up plastic bag. Pete stole the bag that held all the paper towels I used to clean up Pepper’s barf, dragged it across the house, tore it all up and ate all the goodness within.
Disgusting little creature.
Later that day I couldn’t find the kitchen sponge, so I pulled a new one out from under the sink, washed the cats’ food bowls, put the sponge back next to the kitchen faucet where it belongs. Two days later, the sponge is missing again. Hmm… Could it be? Yep. There were two kitchen sponges under the living room table.
Yesterday, he tried to take a nap in the garbage can where all the plastic bags full of dirty cat litter get thrown.
Pete grabbed and ripped-up a half-loaf of sourdough I had left on the counter. I didn’t think he was interested in bread.
Last night, Pete knocked over a huge ficus tree we have in our dining room. Scared himself pretty good, and he’s lucky the pot it’s in didn’t crush him. Tuesday, he jumped up on the kitchen counter and stole a ziplok bag with whole pork tenderloin it. He took it into the living room and ripped it apart. He’s lucky I didn’t crush him.
He growls when you take away food he’s not supposed to have.
He’s like a Jack Russell.