Just spent a half hour chasing Newt around the house bellowing “Newwwwwton is a Goooooolem” in a haunted, insane, basso-profundo.
He started it. I was writing a nice story, and he climbed up, and sat on my keyboard, and nose-butted my right tear duct, until I was obliged to wrestle him to the floor and spin him like a tiny orange top, and roar a gutteral growl. He leapt to his feet, tail in the air, and we ran around the apartment after that… he’s good at the peek and dash at doorjams, and is willing to chase me, if I stop chasing him.
He is now worn out, and lapping up a big gulp ‘o water.
I win! I wore out the baby!