He is so used to watching the sky for activity and scavenging the earth for fallen things that when I flick my wrist he traces the arc from my hand to where the piece of cracker should land.
When there is no bit of cracker, he stares at me, bewildered at first, and then with steady, unmoving eyes. He will sit this way, this furry four-legged statue of mine, until I give in and hand him what he always knew he would find.
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SHE...
...rushes off after the invisible crumpled up paper because although she is very cute, she's not exactly the brightest.
Then again, sometimes when I do throw it she doesn't find it anyway. But it's still funny to see her skitter across the floor.
Good morning, Betty. And A--.
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