"I'm Not Looking at You"

Jack had the gingerbread girl squeaky toy last night. The only new Christmas toy to survive the season. I had it first and She-for-whom-the-window-I-lick threw it in a direction that I was not anticipating. She cheated. Jack saw where it went--he's a lurker--and came out of nowhere with it in his mouth. I thought, "Wow! there's another one!" Really didn't settle with me how he got it until a few minutes later. He, being a royal pain in the arse at times, tauntingly got on the couch with it, so I walked right up to him. But I didn't look at him. He didn't look at me, either, but we were face to face. It spoke volumes. We stayed like this for at least 5 minutes--that's at least 35 dog minutes, mind you. Jack would a@$holingly chew on it to make it squeak every once in a while, but he mainly just let it sit there, right in front of my face, and he gazed just past my right ear. She-for-whom-the-window-I-lick, and He-who-tastes-like-salt-and-gives-me-fries laughed at us. But I know the brilliant strategy in not looking. "I'm in 'yo face, Coltraine, but I ain't lookin at you." Is what I would have said were we not in the present company of our bi-peds. I wore him down, though. He just gave up, got off the couch, and walked away leaving "G.G." behind for me to fling her around by her skirt. I win. I always win.