Obi takes his job of being a little brother very seriously. Sometimes, he extends his bratty tricks to more than just Oliver. Today, he tried them on me.
I had some tea and peanut butter cookies on the coffee table in the living room. Obi came up to give me a quick hug and use me as a stool to look out the window. And then he spotted them. Cookies!
From my lap he stretched over to the table to sniff my cookies. I told him no. He jumped down to the floor and put his feet on the table to sniff the cookies. I told him no. And here’s where little brother training kicked in: he reached up and put a paw on my stack of cookies.
“You don’t want them now that I’ve touched them, right?” He met my eyes with a look of victory.
I reached over and wrapped my cookies in their paper towel. Yes, I did.
Time to pull out the stops on this: he BIT my cookies.
“You don’t want them with my spit on them, right?”
Luckily, no cat spit penetrated the paper towel. Later, Obi did have his chance at a cookie when a good sized chunk fell off my cookie and rolled under the couch. Now I’ll put up with a cat paw or a little kitten spit, but I’ve seen what’s under that couch. Deal. Breaker.
I fished it out for Obi. He sniffed. He licked. He walked away.
“I hate cookies.“