Guess whose pink nose that is?
Harris, of course. My husband has taken to referring to him as "Doctor Evil," a term of endearment. Harris just can't leave anything unexplored, including these roses from Wilson Farm. The bunch was huge and they didn't all fit in the vase I use in the bedroom. Harris immediately spotted the extras on the living room mantel, and that was that.
From here on, the soundtrack for these photos was me saying, "No Harris!" or "Stop that!" Emphatically and repeatedly.
You can tell I'm annoying him because his ears are back in most of these photos.
Saying "NO" and urging Harris to remember his better nature are rarely effective deterrents.
At some point during his crimes, Harris inevitably pretends to be (briefly) uninterested in whatever he's after, in hopes of fooling me into leaving him alone and going off to bother someone else:
But he can't control himself:
If he could talk to us, I bet he'd say that his investigations are of a purely scientific nature.
But I think his real goals are to eat my roses and disobey me. My exhortations kept him from chomping away on the flowers but he refused to surrender entirely.
I can always tell when Harris isn't happy. He has such an expressive face, especially when he's peeved:
He thinks the world is a cruel and unfair place. Yes, it is, Harris. But not for you.