Posts I guess



Cute pup!

Sooo pouncable! *wrufff*

I was reading an article on Cyprus when my boyfriend said, “I don’t think your pup likes me.”
I glance over at Mohammed – or Mo to me – who was trying to figure out one of those “impossible” finger puzzles while half-watching a 90s disaster film on TV. Mo looks back at me..
“What?” I reply. 
“I think he wants to bite me.”
I look at Doby, sprawled over the foot of my king’s sized bed. I had been dating Mo for three months now, and had decided to slowly introduce him to my pup. They were still learning to get along with each-other. “No,” I say, “He’s going to pounce you.”
Mo snorts. “No, habibi, that is clearly a look that he hates me and wants to bite me. Dogs that pounce have their butts in the air.”
I give Mo a sideways smile and turned back to my magazine. “You’re wrong. He’s deciding if he likes you, and when he does, he’s gonna pounce you.”
“I seriously think he’s already decided he doesn’t like me,” Mo insisted.
I place my thumb in the magazine and fold it closed. “And why would you think that? He was wagging when you met.”
“Cause some dogs are possessive of their Masters. In your home, in your bed, and he share your love and ownership with me now.”
“Hm,” I reply, “Well I see your point there, but Doby has never been possessive. We talked about this. As long as he doesn’t feel pushed out, we won’t see any bad behavior.”
Mo considers Doby, then went back to fiddling with the puzzle. “So you say. I still think he wants to bite me. Why is he staring at me like that?”
I look at Doby. “Hm? …Oh, you know, maybe…”
“What?” Mo asks.
I wiggle my hand behind his pillow.
“Hey what are you doing back there?”
I pull out a ball. “Here. He probably wants this.” 
Mo takes it suspiciously. “This…?” 

There’s a blur of flesh and leather as the pup pounces on Mo. 
Mo yelps in surprise. I laugh. “Told you he likes you. You were just getting between him and the ball.”
“Oof! Oh god, pffft he’s licking me and standing on my diaphram what do I do!”
“Throw it, duh!” I respond, laughing.
Mo hurls it. The ball bounces on the floor and out into the hallway. Doby goes after it like lightning, skittering and barking as he chased it.
I can’t stop laughing at how rumpled and frazzled Mo looks. 
“What. Just. Happened.”
I open my magazine again. “He pounced, just like I said. By the way, you better prepare, cause here he comes. And he’s gonna want you to throw it again.”

Text is fictional.


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