It’s been a battle of wills and fencing lately.
Nutmeg is the most persistent.
She knows what she wants and she doesn’t let anything stand in her way. Particularly welded wire.
She’s really just a wee thing.
Not much bigger than a medium-sized dog.
Boomer’s not sure what to make of her when she comes to the porch. Maybe she wants to play?
He doesn’t understand this head-butting game she likes.
Maybe Nutmeg would like to wrestle?
You know she came up here to POOP.
Nutmeg: “I’ll trade ya for some cookies.”
Boomer: “I was gonna take a nap there.”
Don’t worry, Boom Boom. I’ve got this whole thing under control.