Bedtime Story
I have been having a problem with a certain feline waking me up multiple times during the night. First, he wakes me up around 4:00 a.m., usually because he's hungry. So I get up and feed him. (Then he wakes me up at 5:00 but doesn't demand anything-- he's usually climbing onto my chest when I wake up. And lemme tell ya that just feels fantastic when your boobs are in the state that mine are in right now.) At 6:00 he wants out. When I get back into bed at 6:03, the dogs start whining to be let out. Letting the dogs out is a multi-step process that always involves me being pawed and jumped up on, and invariably ends with me being too pissed off to go back to sleep. So to sum it up, I wake up at 4:00 every morning. Work or no work.
After about a week of this, I was fed up. Why the heck should I have to get up two hours before any other sane person just because a few animals think they're the center of the universe? To hell with that. So I decided that Pookie would go outside at night, and the last few nights it's been okay.
Last night I slept with my window open. At 4:00 this morning, there was a meowing in my window. I opened my eyes to see the eerie silhouette of a black cat sitting on the window sill. After trying to ignore him for a few minutes, I finally got up to let him in the back door that is closest to that window. He didn't come in and I didn't hear him out there through the door. So I went back to bed. Two minutes later, he was screaming into the window. He came inside that time, and I fed him and went back to my cool, comfortable bed to sleep for another 2 hours.
Enter dogs. One of them started whining. Thinking perhaps he'd just been bothered a little by the noise of me getting up to let the cat in- twice- I tried to ignore him in hopes that he'd go back to sleep. No luck. He just got louder.
Now let me digress for a minute to make sure you understand just how valuable these last two hours of sleep were. I have to be at some rich lady's house today at 9:00 to pick up a puppy. That puppy then has to be delivered to my cousin-- in Independence, MS, which is 20 miles south of Hernando, which is where my parents live. I got volunteered for this puppy delivery because I was flirting with the idea of going up there anyway, and they needed this dog brought up, so it just naturally became a concrete plan.
Anyway, I went to sleep last night after midnight because Tim and I watched American Gangster, which is about seventy eleven hours long and didn't leave me in any mood to fall asleep. In other words, today I'm going to drive longer than I've slept. And when I reach my destination, I will deal with some relatives that I haven't seen in a few years. And it's not the relatives that I mind. It'll actually be nice to see her. But damn. I'd STILL be at least mentally exhausted by the time I got there if A) I got more than 4 hours of sleep the night before, or B) there wasn't a little puppy that is sure to be whining half the way there, or C) I wasn't knocked up and prone to sudden extreme bouts of fatigue. Oh yeah, and D) I COULD HAVE MORE THAN ONE CUP OF COFFEE or at least a Mountain Dew! Today I've got none of those four things on my side. JOY! And the fact that I'm up early in the first place because of a dog and up earlier than THAT because of another dog? FEEL THE BURN!
So back to my story. The dog didn't stop whining. So I got up and found my shoes and went to let their punk asses outside. Could they just go outside and piss and come back in? No. First they tried to ransack the laundry room where their crates are located, then they tried to ransack yours truly. Stressful. They ran across the boundary of the fence and I tried to get their shock collars on them, which is kind of like trying to tie something onto a greased pig on crack. If it had teeth and sharp paws and wanted to hump your leg.
By the time I got the collars on, I was so pissed that I could've just shot both of the dogs right there and felt no remorse. I turned to make my way back to my bed for the one hour of sleep that might still have remained. Both dogs decided to run through the fence. They've never done that before. I had to get the hose on them, and also found it useful to scream at them at the top of my lungs. I hope the neighbors complain. I'd love someone new to scream at. (Or turn the hose on.)
Soooooooooo I FINALLY went back inside, but at this point I was covered in water and dog drool. I washedmy hands up to my armpits and plopped back down on the bed, pissed.
Ten seconds later...
Meoooow?
And ten seconds after that, Pookie learned that he can not fly.
The cat I have a hard time blaming for being up at night. He's nocturnal. Nature compels him to get up at 4 a.m. and eat something, and because he's been domesticated he relies on me to help with that. I can tolerate it SOMETIMES.
But dogs? I hate dogs. I'm sick of dogs. FUCK DOGS. I'm telling Tim today that those bastards are staying outside from now on. It's warming up, and they're almost 100% grown up; they can handle the wild outdoors of our back yard overnight. Especially during the summer and fall.
From now on, anything that wakes me up to be fed in the middle of the night is going to DIE unless it has half my chromosomes. I have about 7 months left to sleep through the night. I'm not having these last precious nights of sleep ruined by something that isn't going to be picking my nursing home in forty years.
After about a week of this, I was fed up. Why the heck should I have to get up two hours before any other sane person just because a few animals think they're the center of the universe? To hell with that. So I decided that Pookie would go outside at night, and the last few nights it's been okay.
Last night I slept with my window open. At 4:00 this morning, there was a meowing in my window. I opened my eyes to see the eerie silhouette of a black cat sitting on the window sill. After trying to ignore him for a few minutes, I finally got up to let him in the back door that is closest to that window. He didn't come in and I didn't hear him out there through the door. So I went back to bed. Two minutes later, he was screaming into the window. He came inside that time, and I fed him and went back to my cool, comfortable bed to sleep for another 2 hours.
Enter dogs. One of them started whining. Thinking perhaps he'd just been bothered a little by the noise of me getting up to let the cat in- twice- I tried to ignore him in hopes that he'd go back to sleep. No luck. He just got louder.
Now let me digress for a minute to make sure you understand just how valuable these last two hours of sleep were. I have to be at some rich lady's house today at 9:00 to pick up a puppy. That puppy then has to be delivered to my cousin-- in Independence, MS, which is 20 miles south of Hernando, which is where my parents live. I got volunteered for this puppy delivery because I was flirting with the idea of going up there anyway, and they needed this dog brought up, so it just naturally became a concrete plan.
Anyway, I went to sleep last night after midnight because Tim and I watched American Gangster, which is about seventy eleven hours long and didn't leave me in any mood to fall asleep. In other words, today I'm going to drive longer than I've slept. And when I reach my destination, I will deal with some relatives that I haven't seen in a few years. And it's not the relatives that I mind. It'll actually be nice to see her. But damn. I'd STILL be at least mentally exhausted by the time I got there if A) I got more than 4 hours of sleep the night before, or B) there wasn't a little puppy that is sure to be whining half the way there, or C) I wasn't knocked up and prone to sudden extreme bouts of fatigue. Oh yeah, and D) I COULD HAVE MORE THAN ONE CUP OF COFFEE or at least a Mountain Dew! Today I've got none of those four things on my side. JOY! And the fact that I'm up early in the first place because of a dog and up earlier than THAT because of another dog? FEEL THE BURN!
So back to my story. The dog didn't stop whining. So I got up and found my shoes and went to let their punk asses outside. Could they just go outside and piss and come back in? No. First they tried to ransack the laundry room where their crates are located, then they tried to ransack yours truly. Stressful. They ran across the boundary of the fence and I tried to get their shock collars on them, which is kind of like trying to tie something onto a greased pig on crack. If it had teeth and sharp paws and wanted to hump your leg.
By the time I got the collars on, I was so pissed that I could've just shot both of the dogs right there and felt no remorse. I turned to make my way back to my bed for the one hour of sleep that might still have remained. Both dogs decided to run through the fence. They've never done that before. I had to get the hose on them, and also found it useful to scream at them at the top of my lungs. I hope the neighbors complain. I'd love someone new to scream at. (Or turn the hose on.)
Soooooooooo I FINALLY went back inside, but at this point I was covered in water and dog drool. I washed
Ten seconds later...
Meoooow?
And ten seconds after that, Pookie learned that he can not fly.
The cat I have a hard time blaming for being up at night. He's nocturnal. Nature compels him to get up at 4 a.m. and eat something, and because he's been domesticated he relies on me to help with that. I can tolerate it SOMETIMES.
But dogs? I hate dogs. I'm sick of dogs. FUCK DOGS. I'm telling Tim today that those bastards are staying outside from now on. It's warming up, and they're almost 100% grown up; they can handle the wild outdoors of our back yard overnight. Especially during the summer and fall.
From now on, anything that wakes me up to be fed in the middle of the night is going to DIE unless it has half my chromosomes. I have about 7 months left to sleep through the night. I'm not having these last precious nights of sleep ruined by something that isn't going to be picking my nursing home in forty years.
Labels: it's not a cat blog, pet tales
First child porn now cat porn. I am right there with you on the animals. With four children, one dog (down from seven dogs-five puppies), and two cats, this place is a madhouse. I am the Mad Hatter. We thought we had lost one cat last week only to find him shacked at the neighbors house across the street. The son dragged him kicking and screeching home. The cat didn't care. I was kicking and screeching, "Leave him there." Holley
Posted by
Anonymous |
8:59 AM
I assume that you don't just give the cat extra food at night because the dogs would eat it. SO if you turn out to be the one who leaves the dogs out, you could also put out some extra food when you go to bed so your little porn star will already have breakfast ready.
That way, everyone wins.
Posted by
Stewed Hamm |
11:03 AM
It doesn't seem to matter if there's food out. I don't know what his religion it, but food can not be consumed until it has been blessed by the human. If I get up, walk down the hall, pick up the (already full) food bowl, shake it a little, then set it down, he thinks it's new food.
Retarded ass cat.
Posted by
Mommy Needs a Xanax |
1:32 PM
If you put the dogs out, they'll probably just get right under your bedroom window and BARK all night.
Posted by
Anonymous |
4:58 PM