White Dog laid on the couch watching Sachi. She looked across the room at me and rolled her eyes. The Little Man had come dashing into the living room from the kitchen like a circus acrobat tossing something in the air in front of him and then rushing ahead in an attempt to catch it.
His wind up and pitch were impressive but he was pretty poor in the catching department.
"What is it he has," I asked. Then I saw that his "treasure" was a large ripe strawberry. Steve moved to the doorway to explain that he had dropped the box of berries this morning and thought he had retrieved them all; apparently he was wrong.
Sachi's red plaything rolled under the coffee table. He carefully walked around the glass-topped piece of furniture, stalking the prize. Nose down and tail in the air, he inched and sniffed suddenly darting forward to grab the berry in his teeth.
He sank to his belly and held the fruit between his paws and took a dainty taste. He paused to savor the taste on his tongue before taking another tiny bite. Then he batted the berry across the room and chased after it, once again stalking and then capturing his "prey."