Sixteen years ago I had a boss I would love to have considered a small pet, but she was married…
Samantha and Tabitha can easily distinguish things thrown for them, e.g., toy mice or small balls, from things thrown at them, e.g., a wadded-up Kleenex in a typically unsuccessful attempt to chase them away from something they shouldn’t be messing with, or to stop them from facing each other with lowered ears and raised voices. They know the difference. And I’m pretty sure they’d place the USB missiles in the “at” category.
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