hound dog, that is:



Stinky Mr. PupCake got a bath this morning and once he decided he'd had enough of giving me the stink eye for having mistreated him so horrendously, a little play time with the kitties was in order, in the crazy paw-stomping, wheelie-ing, whappy tail kind of way that a greyhound excels at.
Rather a new development here at Casa Splatgirl, the whole dog-wants-to-play-with-kitty thing, as prior to now, both parties have been successfully in denial about the whole mixing of furry species thing and absolutely convinced that any kind of socializing with the "enemy" would spell certain death.
So, the initial "HOLY CRAP WHAT ARE YOU FORCING ME TO LIVE WITH NOW" that we started with had, at long last, resolved itself into a calm and reasonable, "I'm OK, you're OK" with the occasional benevolent butt sniff thrown in.
But after this mornings' excitement, we're now back to full on "I'm certainly about to die at the hands of this monster" mode with the kitties lurking around on their bellies any time they have to come within 20 feet of "the monster" to get to their designated lounge spot.

But PupCake just doesn't get it. Because he WUUUUBBS da kitties and why in the world would they not want to play with his handsome-ass self, especially when he is wet AND nekkid?

So he took his squeaky monkey baby and went back to sulking in the sunshine.

I told you we torture hound dogs here.