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08.27.02 -

Tuesday


It happens every night.

It's 10:30 PM.

You are a boring domesticated suburbanite, so you are ready for bed. You tell your husband that the dog is positively not allowed on the bed tonight. You climb into bed and read a bit with your husband before turning out the lights.

CLUNK.

The dog's head has connected with your closed bedroom door. She's butting the door, you whisper. JB says, well, she wants in. You start to feel bad for the dog.

(whine)

The dog is whimpering a little. You now feel like you have personally walked up to a baby Harbor seal pup and whopped it over the head with a giant mallet.

BLORP SLORP GLORP BLOP SLOOP PLORP SLUP SLORT MLOT BLORP

What the hell? - you are startled. It's the dog, JB says, drinking out of the toilet.

(whuffffff)

The dog sighs heavily.

CLUNK.

You are cruel. You are a sadistic, evil, terrible person. People have been executed by lethal injection for less.

(whine)

Let her in! Let her in! you shout. Your husband (for this is what he wanted all along) gleefully opens the door, and for a moment, All Is Dog Love. You are licked vigorously as she settles into a comfortable spot.

Suddenly, you remember that whole toilet thing. You rub your mouth ruefully.

12:45 AM.

My GOD. Is the house on fire? Why are you so hot? Why are the sheets drenched with sweat, and yet they are only stretched partway across your body?

It's the dog. She has the thermal conductivity of....Death Valley. She is giving off approximately 30928501029857 BTUs of heat. Plus, she is lying halfway across your legs and you have lost all feeling in your toes.

Also, she's snoring.

You push the dog gently. Dog, you say, dog, please move. She reluctantly wakes up and moves .009 inches.


1:00 AM - 1:15 AM

SLUP. SLUP. SLUP. SLUP. SLUP.

1:16 AM.

The sound of a dog licking itself is now akin to water torture. You can imagine it being used in interrogation chambers. You are ready to volunteer your own dog for this type of duty, preferably some small South American area far away from your bedroom.

The dog is booted from the bed, and the door is closed.

2:00 AM.

An unholy yowling is coming from outside on the porch. You stagger to your feet, and open the sliding glass door. A small, semi-fat cat streaks in.

2:30 AM.

After demanding a midnight snack, the cat is now situated on the bed. She purrs happily, and kneads her claws. Her claws make a little rip rip rip sound.

2:34 AM.

Rip rip rip.

2:49 AM.

Rip rip rip.

3:00 AM.

You mash the cat into what looks like a nice spot. Go. To. SLEEP, you hiss.

3:35 AM.

Your husband yawns mightily, and pads off to the bathroom. Despite having shown no prior animosity towards you, he casually lets the dog back in the bedroom as he returns.

The dog leaps up on the bed. She stares at the cat.

The cat inflates.

Territories are staked out, and the Cold War begins.

4:15 AM.

You awaken to realize the cat is practically on your face. She is as far away from the dog as she can physically get without giving up the bed. The dog is sprawled mostly on JB, which you are glad to see. She is snuffling in her sleep, and sounds a bit like a potbellied pig. You push the cat aside, and settle into your fur-encrusted pillow.

4:30 - 5:59 AM.

All is bliss.

6:00 AM.

Alarm! Total chaos! Dogs and cats everywhere! Barking and meowing! You burrow under the covers, pull the pillow over your head, and snatch another few minutes before meeting the day.


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0 comments so far.

I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004

yay, diaryland