Add this to his looonnnnnggggg list of quirks- an apparent aversion to me chopping firewood.

I don’t know where he gets it, I really don’t.

I’m tryin’ to split some wood yesterday when- all the sudden- there’s Cutter; barking at me, his barks reverberating canyon-style off the condo’s across the street, and while he’s barking he’s darting in and out trying to disrupt(?) my swing and save(?) the firewood(?).

Whassup wit dat?

So I put him and Tug back in the house and Cutter immediately tears through the house over to the sliding glass door glaring out at me wide eyed, barking wildly again, frenetically and frantically pawing the glass ’til I’m laughing so hard I couldn’t chop wood if I wanted to.

Little fucker.

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