Sniff. Sniff. Max’s claws needed to be trimmed, and now he is mad at me. He’s no longer My Sweet Max; he’s My Pouty Max. Maybe it was getting stuffed into his carrier. Or listening to me sing off-key. Or the doggy barking up a storm at the grooming salon.
Maybe it’s all of the above. And the fact that I didn’t let him adopt a birdie. He deserved a reward after being such a brave boy, so we stopped to admire the birdies before we left PetSmart. He meowed and meowed that he wanted one, but I figured those pretty colorful birdies should go to a Max-free home.
He’s been pouting all afternoon. Unlike Emeril, he didn’t retreat to under the bed for the remainder of the day, but he won’t snuggle with me. Sniff. Sniff. I even gave him extra treats too.
I figure he’ll forget the indignity he’s suffered in a few hours. Or at least until I make him wear his Halloween costume. 😀