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Olive is very into Gus lately.

In her opinion, him walking into a room is the funniest thing ever, watching him go down the stairs is even better, and any time she manages to squirm close enough to grasp a handful of fur her whole face contorts with glee and you can practically hear her whispering “My precioussssss!”

Gus, on the other hand is a little less enthusiastic about this newfound source of attention.

He’ll tolerate her wide mouthed gasps and grabby hands for a few moments, but after seven months of being told, “Gentle. Gennnntle. GENTLE!” anytime he came within three feet if her, he’s not taking any chances.

I keep telling him, “Gus, this is the kid who will be sneaking you (organic) (free-range) (gluten free) (homemade) chicken fingers from her high chair.

And yes, she’s a little creepy now with the crazy hair and the missing pant legs and the hissing of ‘We wants it!’, but you best start licking some feet, buddy.

For the chicken fingers sake.”

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