A solid 100% of the times that I pick Newt up, she bites me.
When she sits on my desk – and I dare to type – she bites me.
If she’s on the kitchen counter or on the table and I reach out to, say, answer my phone, she bites me.
She does not bite John. He contends that all this biting is her trying to entice me to play.
Every morning when I wake up, I open my eyes, and I’m greeted with this:
Despite all the biting, Newt chooses to cuddle up with me every night. She sleeps on my stomach or nestled in the crook of my knees, dozing peacefully. Well, until I reach over, turn on my phone, and snap her pic…
Then, back to evil glares.
She loves me.
She loves me not.