Dad tried to “entertain” us the other day by putting out a paper bag. To make sure we went into it, he put some fresh timothy hay in the bag.
This was the result:
“And there’s nothing you can do about it!”
(You can see an alternate version here.)
-Gus
Mwahahahahahaha!
Great work there Gus … but listen, it’s a sack. A sack, Gus. A paper sack.
Hi, Gus! I bet you don’t realize someone could come along and carry you off by the handles. Hm.
Gus knows I would never *dare* do something like that. Besides, it’s just a paper bag – what if the bottom rips out? I wouldn’t want Gus to fall down like that.
Or maybe he just figures he can get out quick enough if I try to come pick the bag up. He *is* pretty fast…
Well Gus, looks like it’s YOUR hay now! In a convenient carry out bag!
My bun used to LOVE going in paper bags. I didn’t even put anything tasty in there. He liked the privacy, I think. You’re not alone in your enjoyment of paper bags, Gus.
Hugo liked bags too… because they gave him privacy. The first time I had to put a treat in it, but then it was no longer necessary