Poor Cousteau

Picture this, if you will:

I am ready to leave for work. I have Cousteau's biscuit in my hand.

He is looking at the biscuit.

I am looking at Pio.

Pio is looking at Cousteau.

Pio looks mischievous.

He pounces; attaches himself to Cousteau's leg via his claws and hangs there for a split second.

Cousteau looks at me as if to say, 'Is this really happening? What are you going to do about it?'

I shout.

Pio runs off.

Cousteau gets his biscuit.

I leave them to sort it out.

He's such a gentle giant. He fully deserved a wee play in the leaves on the deck at lunchtime.

I tried Pio outside for a little while. He was nervous but inquisitive. Until Cousteau barked in his ear, that is. After that, he was just nervous.

It signalled the end of our play.

One all then.