Cute, isn't he? The problem with Zach, however, is that he has DAR — as in radar.
For example: he possesses DoorDAR. Leave his parents' bedroom door slightly ajar, and he senses it and is there, usually trying to jump on the bed. The same holds true for the side door; we keep it latched, but should we forget, he's instantly through it on his way to whatever paradise lies beyond in his imagination. Ditto for the bathroom door.
He knows when the dishwasher door is open, and he will make it there in record time from the farthest room in the house. Of course, the cupboard door under the sink where we keep the garbage is also a much favoured target. (Note: I am interspersing random pictures of His Royal Darishness that have nothing to do with his DAR but everything to do with his cuteness.)
Speaking of the bathroom, he also has Buppa's-in-the-Bathroom-DAR that somehow alerts him almost before it even crossed Buppa's mind. I try to sneak to the commode while he's totally absorbed with something like his Elmo program, but his DAR alerts him in some mystical sort of fashion, and he's soon there, wailing his heart out at the gate before I can ... well ... blush.
I even leave the door open with the gate up so he can still see me and not feel abandoned, poor boy, but I guess his wailing informs me that he does feel exactly that — abandoned.
Oh, and he has GateDAR too although I suppose it's really a subset of DoorDAR if you're going to insist on being precise. We have a gate at the top of the stairs that descend to the basement. Should we, however, fail to latch it properly, he's there in a flash. The same holds true for the gate leading from the deck to the backyard. Sigh.
He has Back-is-Turned-DAR. Such a body position represents a chance to climb onto the nearest forbidden object such as the coffee table. Alternatively, he will seize the opportunity to sneak up behind the unsuspecting adult. Just yesterday, I had my back turned, just for a few seconds mind you, and lo and behold, when I turned around again to move myself, there he was, right there, directly in my path. In my attempt to not crush the life out of the lad, I had to launch my body sideways, only preventing a potentially damaging fall by lunging headlong to the back of the couch for support. I think he does this on purpose. I think he's trying to take me out. That's what I think.
His DARishness never stops. He has ThingDAR. Leave something where he can get it, and he will: the remote control, your can of coke, your cup of hot coffee, your book, your newspaper, your ... everything.
That's almost as bad as his ChairDAR: push your chair away from the table and forget to push it back, and he'll be climbing it forthwith in an attempt to dance on the tabletop.
As you can tell form these photos, he attempts to take you in with his cuteness, but his Darishness will likely be the end of me, so don't let the pictures fool you. And if I can no longer blog because I have a massively herniated body, or worse, you'll have a good idea how it happened.
