Chloe has not accepted the new arrival at all. She stares at him with suspicion and spits at him if he comes too close. She doesn't want to even come inside or be in the same room as him. She has totally forgotten where she came from - she was a foundling, born under a tree. I told her we should always remember our roots and that we should always be kind to others. She didn't listen.
Typically, Poofy has welcomed Bob into the family. He wanted to play this afternoon but he doesn't quite understand that the difference in size dictates how rough (or gentle) the play should be. Little Bob got rolled once or twice (while cat eyes watched in the background).
Unfortunately, (or perhaps it was timely) Coco missed all the excitement. She went to the vet on Monday and still isn't home yet (Wednesday). Her quest to eat everything in sight has got her into trouble. It looks like she's had a bout of pancreatitis, possibly after quaffing Poofy's dinner of left over wagyu roast on the weekend - too much fat in it for her tender little organs to cope with. I hope she'll be home tomorrow and Bob will go home tomorrow. I don't think she would have liked him very much; in her mind she's #1 dog around here.
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