Wednesday, October 7, 2009


Here is a recount of how my Monday morning started out. (Disclaimer: there are a few words in this post that I don't normally use. Like the word shit.)

4:36am – Charlie (the dog) is in Dorothy’s room not-so-discreetly trying to alert somebody that he needs attention (i.e. to go outside). He does this by giving a short, low growl or by yawning with a little sing-song sound at the end. I can hear him through the baby monitor so it’s really hard to ignore him. (Why he didn't come into my room to get me up, I don't know. Dorothy certainly wasn't going to get out of bed to let the knucklehead outside.)
4:37am – I am laying in bed willing Charlie to shut up but knowing that he won’t.
4:38am – I get out of bed and he immediately runs over, prancing and jumping around in front of me so that I can’t even walk forward.
4:38am – I open the back door, flip on the porch light and Charlie SHOOTS out the door. I look over to the fenceline just in time to see a flash of something in the bushes.
4:38am – Charlie BOLTS over to the fence, snarling and barking at whatever animal is over there.
4:38am – The animal snarls and snaps back at him! And thus begins a very loud snarling/snapping/barking session.
4:39am – I YELL at the stupid dog, probably waking up half the neighbors, and clap my hands loudly at him, telling him to shut the eff up.
4:40am – Charlie wanders into the yard, does his business and then looks back over at the fence.
4:40am – I tell him to COME HERE RIGHT NOW.
4:40am – He looks at the fence, looks at me, back at the fence, back at me.
4:41am – Charlie decides the he would rather not listen to me and heads back for the fence.
4:41am – I am FED up with him (and with being awake at this hour) and march out into the wet, freezing cold grass, in my bare feet, to get him.
4:42am – I spew a whole bunch of things I can’t repeat, mostly at the dog.
4:43am – I am now beyond pissed at the dog, grab him by the collar, march him up onto the deck and put him in the house, cursing a LOT in the process.
4:43am – I go over to the corner of the house and hose down my feet with FREEZING COLD water.
4:44am – I go back in the house, mutter some more angry things at the dog (if Dorothy was awake I’m sure she was wondering what the HECK was going on) and go in the bathroom.
4:45am – I wash my feet in the tub.
4:47am – I head back to my room, pointing down the hall to Dorothy’s room and telling Charlie to go back to bed.
4:47am – He doesn’t listen to me and I get back in bed.
4:48am – Charlie is still standing in the hallway, making noise and being an utter pain in my you-know-where.
4:48am – I get back out of bed, lead him to HIS bed and make him get in and lay down.
4:49am – I pat his head for good measure (even though he’s totally on my shit list) and go back in my room.
4:50am – I lay in bed, unable to fall back asleep.
5:15am – I finally fall sleep.
5:25am – My alarm goes off.

And this is why I am a cat person.

Charlie is lucky the snarling animal wasn't a skunk. I would have gone back to bed and left him outside until the sun came up!


Diaria said...

My mom is still convinced that I am a dog person, I just haven't figured it out yet.

Tessa said...

You know what I hate the most? When the cats wake me up like four minutes before my alarm goes off. But I'm a dog person.
PS, I gotta tell you about the animal that was out in my backyard yesterday.

Melis said...

HAHAHA! Thanks for stopping by my blog :-) it totally made me check yours out and OMG I am so glad I did because this story really made me laugh. I feel bad for laughing at (with!!!) you but this was really funny. And well-written! Thanks!