Rupert has rediscovered his voice. He's been largely silent for the first few months he's been with us, except for a few squeals and snorts of excitement when it was dinner time. In the last three or four weeks he's been asserting himself by braying at the top of his lungs when he feels that we're not being quite diligent enough in catering to his every whim. For want of a more accurate description, I can only describe the noise as "a wounded foghorn". He's just way too cute.
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