Master and the Grasshopper?
Friday night the dogs were feeling frisky. Lola came bouncing inside and instead of stalking the area around her food bowl prior to digging in, she decided she needed to vent some energy with her toys.
This pookie will do. One of the last pookies with all its guts intact. Not to foretell the story or anything….
But wait, Spice thinks that pookie looks like fun. Using her advantage of height and strength, she rips it away from Lola.
I think this pictures says “Nener Nener Nener”. Lola looks pissed. Game on, Bee-yotch!
Lola steals the pookie back and retreats underneath the bed, smack in the middle where Spice can’t reach her. This would be the point in which the game stopped and Spice found another toy, being the laid-back dog she is. But that wouldn’t provide for any interesting pictures, so I stepped in.
Spice sees a fight she can win, but I’m try to even out the odds a bit. Right now she’s just toying with Lola, but Lola is determined and giving it her all. Do you think Lola knows how much I’m helping, or does her giant ego think she’s actually able to hold her own?
Spice is done being nice. Twack, the Paw of Death is deployed. The most common target of the PoD is Lola’s head, and a well placed PoD to Lola’s noggin is usually enough to completely piss her off and make her sulk away. Tonight though, the Paw Of Death is just out of range.
This upstart has no sense of restraint. She has to flaunt her victory by laying on top of her other favorite toys. Note QuackQuack under her arm and her bone between her legs. The really seems to get to Lola.
But you don’t get to be the Master without learning Patience, Young Grasshopper….and so Lola lies in wait under the bed, calm and quiet, lulling Spice into a false sense of security, and when eventually Spice wanders off to quench her thirst after all that carnage.
Boo-Yah, Bee-yotch!
That is how it’s done, Grasshopper – the real spoils of war are located deep in the pookie’s ribcage. Perhaps another day you will be successful. Poor Spice, shown up once again.
Spice gets a little taste of the Essence of the pookie, whetting her appetite for the next one. She has much to learn.
Pookie Carnage Part 2
Come on…who would think this is the face of viciousness? This tiny little furball is smaller than most cats.
WhaaHaaHaa….Fooled you all, Stupid Humans! I am the destroyer of all that is plushed and soft! I am the terror of anything with a ten-cent plastic squeak! I give no mercy to my prey!
Sadly, FleaBag has met a courageous if untimely death. He was valiant in his fight and preformed well on the battlefield, but alas, he was no match for the Supreme Beheader of the Pookies.
He will be remembered and honored. At this time, he is in the morgue awaiting the decision of his final resting place. Will he undergo the primitive Egyptian practice of cranial destuffing and returned to the battlefield a few ounces lighter? Or will some sympathetic physician take needle and thread to his wounds and patch him up to fight again?
Or will the Human whip out the trusty ductape? To be determined…..
Font of Useless Knowledge 