Generally Stewart and I are big buddies now. But sometimes he still invokes his privilege as elder statesman and that makes me a little wary of him.

Like today. I was playing with my absolute favorite blue squeaky ball. I love my blue squeaky ball. It is the best squeaky ball in the house. It is rubbery and squeaky and fun to chew and toss and chase. It feels good in my mouth. I love the sound of the squeak, squeak, squeak.

But…

Then…

Disaster…

It rolled over by Stewart. And what did he do? He rested his head on it. He buried my blue treasure in his furry face. He did not appreciate its intrinsic value and merrymaking merit. He took something of great worth and potential playfulness and squirreled it away.

So what did I do? I did only what I could do.

I waited. And waited.

And waited…

Until Stewart moved to the other side of the room. Then I recovered my pearl of great price. And all was right with the world.