3:18 a.m.
I am sleeping. The Farmer is sleeping. Phoenix is sleeping on his fuzzy by the bed. Jamie has rearranged his fuzzy to his liking and is sleeping half on/half off of it.
“MEOW-HISS-YOWL-HISS-HISS-YOWL-MEORRRRR!!!!!”
The mother of all cat fights breaks out underneath our bedroom window (our bedroom is on the ground floor).
Me sitting straight up in bed: For the love of doG, why do they have to do that right under the window! (Truly, this is one of the joys of sleeping with windows open in the summer.)
Farmer, not even opening an eye: #$%@-ing cats!
Jamie: Yawn. Cats are boring. ZZZZZ
Phoenix, ricocheting around the bedroom: CAT FIGHT! CAT FIGHT! Lemme at ‘em!
Me: Knock it off. You’re not going out there.
Phoenix, leaping onto the bed, over me, over the Farmer and perching with his front paws on the window sill and back paws on the bed: Can’t knock it off! CAT FIGHT! CAT FIGHT! I can make them stop! I’ll bark out the window! That’ll fix ‘em. WOOOOO-WOOOOO-WOOOOOO-WOOOOO!
Me: Your brain needs fixed.
Cats continue to yowl obscenities at one another.
Phoenix: You think you’re so tough! You wanna piece of this!? WOOOOO-WOOOOO-WOOOOOO-WOOOOO!
Farmer: Now I’m deaf.
Me: What?
Jamie: Cats are stupid. I’d rather have a raccoon. ZZZZZ
Cats: YOWLYOWLYOWLYOWLMEORRRRRRR!
Phoenix, bouncing back across the bed, onto the floor and racing out of the room: I’ll check all the other windows, in case there’s been a security breach!
Sound of malinois paws racing from room to room. THUD! Sound of dining room chair being knocked over, followed by thunks of paws hitting window sills in each room, followed by paws returning to bedroom and screeching to a stop on my side of the bed.
Phoenix: I can’t see any cats. You have to turn me loose, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!
Me: You just ran into a chair in the dining room.
Phoenix: Oh, sorry about that. I wanna chase a cat. NOW!
Me: No. Not happening.
Phoenix: You are no fun.
Jamie: Kid, will ya just go back to sleep.
Me: Deprive me of another night’s sleep and you’ll see “no fun.”
Phoenix: And you’re crabby . . . fine . . . going to sleep. I’ll get me a cat one of these days.
Me: Ahh, peace . . .
SCREECH-SCREAM-YODEL-SCREECH!!!!
Me and The Farmer: $#%!-ing raccoons!
Jamie: RACCOON FIGHT! RACCOON FIGHT!
And my co-workers wonder why I am the way I am some mornings.
LOL - you need to come to the big city for sleep!! No cat or coon fights!! I'll rent ya a nice little loveseat to sleep on and loan you a quiet little dog.
ReplyDeleteThese are cracking me up!
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