Buster is our five year old West Highland White Terrier. He was our first baby and our first love. Terriers are known for their feistiness. They are stubborn and loyal by nature. Buster is no exception.
He spends his days lounging around the house, taking several long naps throughout the day. But, Buster waits all day for his evening walk. When he sees me looking for my shoes, or when he gets that first whiff of mosquito repellant, he loses it. He barks and runs around just as fast as he did when he was a puppy. In fact, he gets so excited that it's almost impossible to get the harness around his neck. Finally, we're off.
Buster likes certain "poles" to mark his territory. Like most male dogs, Buster has quite an ego. He likes to "go" on corners of fences where dogs reside. He prefers gas lights to fire hydrants, and light poles to mail boxes. He lives for this twenty minutes of dog heaven.
On our walks, there are several cats that make their presence known. Some peek above fences, while others brazenly sit in the middle of "his" sidewalk. Buster hates cats. He goes crazy if he hears one in our front bushes. He can run at the speed of light to chase one out of our backyard. But, that was before he met "the big, fat, tan cat."
According to my husband's report last night, Buster came face to face with BFTC. She was parked at the end of her own driveway. Buster could not resist walking right up to her. Upon approaching her, she stood up, hissed, and actually growled at Buster. What did our strong, tough, stubborn Westie do? He just meekly walked past her, giving her the respect she had finally just earned.
What a puss.
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