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Thursday, June 10, 2010

Fly, baby, fly

"Where is it?! Find!" That's the signal for finding stuff. Spike's getting good at crawling over and under all kinds of place to find the new squeaky toys. He's persistent, and always gets a reward for nosing out a toy. Sometimes it takes 5 or 10 minutes, but he works until he can bring it back.

Today a big fat fly has gotten into my office. It is buzzing around. We probably could have skipped our 3 mile bike ride this afternoon. Spike rushes around the room madly, trying to catch it. He goes so fast he pushes his step-stool to the desk under and skids rather than getting up. I have to reposition the seat, and up he jumps. Then down. Then around. From one window to the other.

The fly is crazy-making. Spike almost snaps it up when it lands on a low file cabinet, but it gets away just in time. I think about swatting it and just getting rid of the droning buzz, but he's having too much fun.  And getting a lot of exercise in the process. Whatever's inside him, this cute little mutt is built to hunt.

He whines as the fly rests. "Fly, baby, fly! And I'll be right there..." It zooms into the room, and he launches himself in another attempt as it cruises by.

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