He kept close watch on me, shifting position as I moved around the deck. I think he's every bit as debonair and suave as that cockney gecko on TV, don't you?
In another area of the deck was a study in concentration. Try as he did, he never did manage to levitate the cat dish into his reach.
Poor Mojo had a rough start to his day. First thing this morning I discovered that he had chewed the top off one of the toes of my chainsaw carved bear in the living room. I was not happy. Mojo had no idea that he could fall from grace with his Mom and it broke his heart. It was, in fact, his second transgression of the day. The first being my discovery that my yard work shoes were full of a certain yellow fluid. The scolding he got hurt far worse than the tiny pop to his butt, and he spent the better part of an hour with his ears drooping and a sad look on his face. He watched me put socks on the bear's feet as a preventive measure (now there's a decorative touch that you won't see anywhere else) and trailed forlornly behind me until he found an opportunity to crawl in my lap and cover me with apologetic kisses. He was one happy little boy when he realized that Mom wasn't going to stay upset with him. What's a one of a kind piece of art balanced against a little boy's heart? A little black paint and nobody else will ever know what happened.
From there we finished repotting and watering plants and washing down the deck. I knew he was back to normal when he started chasing the water, snapping and snarling with puppy delight. Life is back to normal. More or less. I've still got to figure out what to do with my yard shoes.