White Dog and I watched Zsofia as she coiled and leaped from the couch in a wrestling pounce. We both knew the exact moment, mid-air, when our tongue-in-cheek Itty Bitty Baby Girl realized that she was about to land on our for real pocket-sized Storm and not Sachi.
Zso had mistaken the tiny white floof passing her for her best friend and wrestling mate who would have rolled with the pounce and grabbed the Darkest White Dog in a ruff hold.
Instead poor Storm, GENTLE Storm, looked shocked for a nanosecond before swinging her back end around just in time to avoid contact. WD and I let out our breaths in relief. Storm bared her teeth at her rambunctious sister and issued a warning to NEVER try that again.
Zsofia backed up a few steps looking for a way to apologize...or make an escape. Stormer marched toward her. It was a David and Goliath moment. Storm barking the soft grrrrr that reminds me so much of Oso (including the fact that when she barks, her front feet leave the floor) and Zso sinking to her belly and whimpering surrender.
Satisfied, Storm turned her back on her sibling and pranced into the kitchen to sniff empty dog bowls.
"Well played, new one," White Dog whispered so only I could hear. "VERY well played!"