Our dog, Twilla, hates getting moved off the chair to the floor. She also hates anything that seems like it might have been a plant at one time, so she very carefully picks through any leftovers we put down for her and leave behind corn kernels, bits of lettuce and an offending black bean. She might have to suck the yummy stuff off, then spit out the plant byproduct, but it's worth it. Someday, I'll have to tell her that her dog food has corn and rice in it and who KNOWS what will happen when THAT information reaches HRH??
Our cat, Figaro, hates having his paws wet. He also hates loud music.
Our OTHER cat, Elizabeth, hates kittens. She's not fond of Figaro, right now, either. In fact, she's just really sort of grouchy in the summer.
The kittens hate being awakened from their naps or having to sit nicely when they would really rather be pouncing on moths.
My bum calves hate hail on their little tin shelter and being ignored when I'm watering flowers.
The resident toad (does he count as a pet?) hates losing in the game of hide and seek. He hates wagon rides, as well. (He's a very well traveled, rather nervous sort of toad...)
What a crazy blog theme, huh??
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