[ Loiosh, an orange tabby wearing a green harness, stands on a pile of detritus between the van’s front seats. He’s pawing at the white lid of a container that’s kinda wedged in between some other stuff. ]
Treats. TREATS.
(He knows EXACTLY how to get me to hand em out, too.)
(it’s by being a BUTTHOLE & making NOISE.)
[ His claws are hooked around the lid and he’s pulled it over almost on its side. Treats are just visible through the clear sides of the jar. ]
He tips it. Then he lets it fall. Then he tips it. Then he lets it fall. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
Then I give him some treats.
Eventually, though, I get tired of it, & eventually, he gives up. (Usually, there’s a fair amount of time between these occurrences.)
[ He has, indeed, given up, and laid down, but he’s laying with one foreleg draped extremely casually over the treats. ]
HIS treats.
