Free: 2 dogs, 2 cats. Barely used.
My animals are trying to do me in this morning. My alarm was set for 5:40, but at 5:30 Pookie decided we'd had enough sleep. He WOULD NOT shut the hell up and let me get that last ten minutes. After resisting for nine minutes, I finally got up and followed him to the laundry room. As soon as I opened the door, I was overwhelmed by the smell of doo doo. The dogs were in the wire crate, which sets against the wall, which they painted dog hole brown. Spray painted.
It was all down the wall, all over the floor, all over them, all over the crate. It was just all over. So the 20 minutes I normally spend drinking coffee and blogging were spent elbow deep in dog shit.
While I was wiping and spraying and wiping again, TH came down the hallway to tell me, "Your cat is somewhere." Meaning that she's somewhere whining loudly, and needs to be found and accommodated so he can get back to sleep. I slung a chunk of poo off my hand and glared at him. "Nevermind," he said, and went to take care of it himself.
A minute later, in trots Pocket Satan, ready to take her meal in the Bitch Suite. She jumped on top of the plastic dog crate (the one not covered in dog hole brown) and started eating some dry cat food that was already out. I thought she was satisfied, and I made my way down the hall to hose off. Thinking I had finally found a few Me minutes, I cranked up the laptop and poured a cup of coffee. Here comes Pocket Satan again. You must understand that ignoring her is not an option. She won't allow it. She has worked for years to develop her "meow" until it's the most annoying sound possible, and she uses it like a weapon.
So I got up and followed her to the door. As soon as I sat back down, she started meowing again. Normally I would've ignored her since she was outside, but TH is sleeping with the window open, so she really needed to stfu. I got up and opened the door, but she wouldn't come in. She actually preferred to stand outside the door and fire off "meows" that sound like AK-47 rounds to a tired, sleeping man. She came toward the door, then backed away, meowing all the while. I finally reached out, grabbed her by the nape of her bitchy little neck, and jerked her up under my arm. I started walking toward the laundry room, knowing she wanted some canned food. The bitch actually started purring. I had her by the nape of the neck with my right hand, and was holding her under my right elbow, and she was purring. Kitty likes it rough.
Me Time is over. Damn.
It was all down the wall, all over the floor, all over them, all over the crate. It was just all over. So the 20 minutes I normally spend drinking coffee and blogging were spent elbow deep in dog shit.
While I was wiping and spraying and wiping again, TH came down the hallway to tell me, "Your cat is somewhere." Meaning that she's somewhere whining loudly, and needs to be found and accommodated so he can get back to sleep. I slung a chunk of poo off my hand and glared at him. "Nevermind," he said, and went to take care of it himself.
A minute later, in trots Pocket Satan, ready to take her meal in the Bitch Suite. She jumped on top of the plastic dog crate (the one not covered in dog hole brown) and started eating some dry cat food that was already out. I thought she was satisfied, and I made my way down the hall to hose off. Thinking I had finally found a few Me minutes, I cranked up the laptop and poured a cup of coffee. Here comes Pocket Satan again. You must understand that ignoring her is not an option. She won't allow it. She has worked for years to develop her "meow" until it's the most annoying sound possible, and she uses it like a weapon.
So I got up and followed her to the door. As soon as I sat back down, she started meowing again. Normally I would've ignored her since she was outside, but TH is sleeping with the window open, so she really needed to stfu. I got up and opened the door, but she wouldn't come in. She actually preferred to stand outside the door and fire off "meows" that sound like AK-47 rounds to a tired, sleeping man. She came toward the door, then backed away, meowing all the while. I finally reached out, grabbed her by the nape of her bitchy little neck, and jerked her up under my arm. I started walking toward the laundry room, knowing she wanted some canned food. The bitch actually started purring. I had her by the nape of the neck with my right hand, and was holding her under my right elbow, and she was purring. Kitty likes it rough.
Me Time is over. Damn.
Those pets really have us trained.
Posted by
Anonymous |
12:45 PM
I'm curious as to just how many searches for porno that last bit there will earn you. Cuz I'm pretty sure I saw that in a movie once. (I can't be certain, of course, because I stopped paying attention after about 10 minutes.)
Posted by
Stewed Hamm |
3:09 AM