Kids

I love kids. Like LOVE them. I get excited when I see them, and then as soon as they decide they want to touch me, I go completely still and flat while they say cute things like "Il est doux!" ("He is soft!") and "Il est gentil!" ("He is nice!) and "Il est beau!" (my personal favorite "He is beautiful!"). I think kids are the best.

And that's really a good thing for the Tobacconist's son. I was waiting for my master to come back out from the Superette (smelling all the lovely lovely tasty yummy fruits and vegetables - why can't I have grapes again?), and this jerk 4-year-old started throwing things at us. Now, I'm not one to growl, so I simple ignored the child. The Superette owner came out and yelled at the Tobacconist, but that didn't seem to do the trick either. Throwing, throwing, throwing. Boxes pelting me in the back. Perhaps that's why they call it a pelt.... hmmm.......

Although Stacie said "no, no, no!" to the child, nothing stopped; although she did get a nice glare from the child's father. As we walked away, the Superette owner came out and yelled at the Tobacconist in Arabic even more seriously. I was fine with it, but my people seemed quite upset. Good thing Stacie doesn't smoke... I'm pretty sure she'd never give that tobacconist her business again, although she may give him a piece of her mind once her French is better.

Commandez votre enfant ! just doesn't seem strong enough for these people.

And since I don't have any pictures for you today, I'll leave you with this image of why I got neutered (other than the fact that the Astros won the pennant, but we won't talk about that). Kelly, I feel your pain, and I'm glad I don't have to deal with the child support and birthday gifts.