Sophie spots a fly. Or something.
Yesterday evening, one of the last flies that will sneak its way into the house this year was zipping around the living area, sending all the animals into a fly-chasing frenzy. The cats were interested for about five minutes, then left the fly to its own devices while they returned to their naps. Dudz and Zelly, meanwhile, spent about two hours running after the thing, chasing it upstairs into the loft, then back down to the living room, over and over, as the incessant sound of snapping dog jaws filled the air.
At one point, as Zelda bashed her muzzle against the glass in the front window in pursuit of the buzzing menace, Sophie stood next to me on the arm of the sofa, watching, then looked at me as if to say, "What is wrong with them?"
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