Brooskey thinks he's a people. He had his neuter operation last week and is under doctor's orders to wear a cone on his head for two weeks to keep him from licking his wound. Never mind that the cone doesn't really stop him from licking it (they failed to take his freakishly long tongue into account when they selected a size), we don't really expect it to last for two weeks. This past Saturday while we worked on cleaning the condo, we tried to cure his boredom by opening up the blinds and the window so he could see outside and get some fresh air. A little while later we caught him in this pose, sitting there on the couch like a little old man with his arm on the armrest, dividing his attention between the TV and people-watching out the window. The only thing missing was a beer in his hand.