This is my dog. This is my dog's bowl. My dog and her bowl are having a long time love affair. They are an inter-species couple, or is that inter-compound couple. One is a fur covered, bag of mostly water, the other is a shiny metal container.
One is a nonstop pacer, the other is so sedentary that the only way he moves is if someone, or something, picks him up and walks around with him. One breaths, has a heart beat, defecates, and scatters hair onto every single square centimeter of surface in the house, the other is a piece of formed metal. Now you would think that two beings so opposite could not find anything in common, that two beings so opposite could not form a long lasting relationship. You would be dead wrong. These two spend hours walking around the house holding hands, well technically mouth and rim, but you get my drift.
It is the love affair of the century, but it has to end because it is also an obsession.
ob·sess (b-ss, b-)
Now for those of you reading this and saying that I should take the hint and feed the poor thing, I am making that blrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb strawberry noises at you. She brings it to me before, and after each meal. (Thankfully, so far at any rate, not during!)