Dinner is over, right? If you’re eating…stop.
Obi is trying a new strategy for growing minions. Since he hasn’t had any luck getting a life-giving bolt of lightning, he has decided to try growing them inside. Inside him. He gave up a gigantic ball of hair this afternoon – if I hadn’t seen it come out of him I would have thought it was Oliver’s.
It was exhausting. He plunked down next to it to recover. And he was none to happy when I swooped in with a paper towel and took his hard work away.
This evening he is back to a previous strategy: using the people as incubators. Both Oliver and Obi are dedicated to sending The Boy and I out into the world with mini-minions. Little brown and orange striped hairs made it all the way to the Vatican this spring. But with today’s setback, Obi decided to cut the middle man with his hairification of our clothing.
The Boy walked in on him “napping” on the ironing board.
We’ll see how this works out.
Seffie has a seemingly endless supply of fur. I brush her, pull some hair out of the brush, and brush her some more. The only problem with this is that if I’m not careful, she eats the hair I’ve just pulled out of the brush.
Also, I’m glad The Boy noticed Obi and didn’t just start ironing. Obi looks much better three-dimensional.
Yes, Obi’s favorite thing to do is wash the hair that comes out of the brush. Or to lick the brush. And we’ve never managed to brush him so much that he can’t fill a brush – we lose interest WAY before we run out of hair.
Our malamute was the same way. We’d brush and brush and brush and brush – I swear we took a whole dog worth of hair off her – and then she’d go plunk down in the living room and tufts of wool would appear.