Thankfully, Gibby has his naughty bits covered. The dear old thing has been spending a great deal of time, these past few weeks, working on his predatory skills. He's been doing quite a lot of skulking, creeping, leaping, blitzing, and this morning, launched a full frontal attack, vaulting out from behind the bedroom door, attempting to sink his non-existant talons into my left thigh, and smacking his head off my crotch. Operation aborted. He's now on the dining room table, laying on my computer mousing trying to hatch it, I reckon.
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Sounds like my two, right down to the hatching of non-hatchable items. Is Gibby a talker, too? Ru is beside me now, "ru-ru"ing to get my attention. That isn't how he got his name, but it certainly fits.
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