As you can see, Mickey is completely overwhelmed at the thought.
It's a good thing I held off, too, because I didn't really have much of anything interesting to post about, until Mickey decided to take matters into his own paws. He's currently in the boy's doghouse again, although I will say that is with somewhat good reason for once.
Two nights ago, the boy was studying at the dining room table when I let Mickey out for his run. Of course, the first thing Mickey usually does when he comes out and sees the boy sitting there is to go over and give him a noodge to get his attention. The boy never appreciates this, so I was watching to see what would happen in case I needed to run interference. I watched Mickey run up to the boy, but for once, he simply scooted under my son's chair and went over to his tunnel under the table. I figured that my son had noticed this, so I sat down at my desk and went back to my computer.
I spun around at the sound of my son hollering, although I had a good idea what had happened.
"What's the matter?"
"Why didn't you TELL me you let the furball out?! He brushed against my leg and scared the **** out of me!"
I held back a snicker and reminded the boy of all the times that I had indeed informed him that Mick was on the loose and gotten "I know that." in response. He was not amused. Meanwhile, Mr. Mick was still nosing around my son's feet, either clueless as to the uproar he was causing or determined to continue it. The boy pushed him away, muttering threats of violence against fuzzy critters who persist in interrupting his work. Mickey finally went over to me to get some petting, and I figured the matter was over.
A short time later, the boy finishes his work, gets up, wishes me goodnight, and heads off to his bedroom.
A few seconds later:
"OH MY GOD! *LOTS of swearing* "
I hear a bunch of things being moved around, and more swearing. I get up and rush into his room. My son is on his knees next to the bed, and I realize what has happened. Mr. Nosy Bunneh has struck again.
My son is leaning down and reaching under the bed. "You little ****, how the **** did you get in here?!"
"Did you leave your door open? I closed it myself before I let him out."
"The door was closed when I came in--and yes, I closed it after! Get out from under there, you little ****!"
He reaches under the bed and thrashes his arm around. I can hear nails clickety-clacking on the floor under the bed, and my son curses again. I clap my hands and stomp and order Mickey out. A few moments later, there is an orange blur and the furry invader is skedaddling out of the bedroom. My son is muttering more threats under his breath. I reminded him that he knows he's got to keep an eye out because Mickey does not miss any opportunity to go where he's not supposed to. (I will admit; this is the fastest I've ever seen him do it, though--I didn't even hear him go into the hallway after the boy.)
The boy was (again) not amused, so I left him to go back to what I was doing, making sure to close the door tight. Good thing I did, because within a moment after I sat back down, guess who was heading back into the hallway? I grabbed my camera to get a picture (since by then, I knew this was going to be a blog post), but Mick scooted back into the dining room the minute he heard me get out of the chair. Three more times, he went back into the hallway, until I finally opened the bathroom door so he could run around in there. (Of course, just as I did that, my husband gets up to use the bathroom--and closes the door again after he leaves.)
Of course, now Mick's headed into the hallway any time he's out, just in case he gets another opportunity. I make sure the bathroom door's open now, so he can bop in there and feel like he's accomplished something.
Yeah, all that nosiness can wear a bunny right out.
Anyhow, I would like to thank one and all for reading this blog over the past year. I hope we've managed to entertain you, and hopefully we'll keep entertaining you in the years to come.
"If I'm going to be doing this for another year, I want more treats."