| gwyneth ( @ 2006-06-07 11:04:00 |
pooped
a couple of times a week, we open kazooie's cage, let him climb onto an arm, then plop him down into a running area at one end of our apartment, blocked off by a pair of baby gates.
he runs, he hops, he chews, he skitters, he twirls in his dustbath, and usually winds up in Steve McQueen mode, where he's fixated on getting over those gates.
eventually, he winds down. then we scoop him up and put him back in his cage, where he's so tired that he scrunches himself up against the wire, hanging his body by his teeth and tiny paws, and passes out:

a couple of times a week, we open kazooie's cage, let him climb onto an arm, then plop him down into a running area at one end of our apartment, blocked off by a pair of baby gates.
he runs, he hops, he chews, he skitters, he twirls in his dustbath, and usually winds up in Steve McQueen mode, where he's fixated on getting over those gates.
eventually, he winds down. then we scoop him up and put him back in his cage, where he's so tired that he scrunches himself up against the wire, hanging his body by his teeth and tiny paws, and passes out:
