Daily Dose of Cute

All day, Dudley and Zelda are quiet as little church-mice while I work, and then, all evening, it's WRASSLIN' TIME!!! They looooooove playing tug-of-war, and would literally play all night if we let them. It isn't a dominance game (at least it's not so far, and we only let them play it if we're watching, so we can keep an eye on it): If one of them manages to actually "win," they flop the toy immediately back at the other one, to keep the game going. If I take away Pinkie, they play with a plush ice cream cone, and if I take away Coney, they just roll around together on the floor, play-biting each other's faces. If I make them "sit" to calm it down for a bit, they give me these pitiful looks as if to say, "Whyyyyyyy?! Why do you haaaaaaaaate us?! You're the WORST!" Then immediately set to running around snapping at flies as soon as I release them.

Dudley and Zelda run in a circle in the living room, each of them holding onto an end of a long thin squeaky toy known as Pinkie, playing tug-of-war with it. Zelda growls playfully. Both of their tails wag wildly. Offscreen, Iain walks into the room and can be heard sighing with mock exasperation: "Oh, dear. Come on, you two. Knock it off!" I laugh, and say, "Noooo! They're playing!" Iain sighs dramatically, as he pet s Dudley, who stands for the petting for about half a second before running back to play with Zelda.

Still holding onto Pinkie, Zelda jumps up onto the couch, then off the couch, then onto the loveseat, then off the loveseat. I laugh. "They're so funny!" Squeak squeak squak as they wrestle. Zelda's jaws are a lot stronger than Dudley's, and when she gets it away from him, she flops the loose end back at him, so he can grab it again. She snarls playfully. "Ohhh," I say, as if she's ferocious, and then laugh.