Wildlife: My Fan Club

This morning I opted not to hop out of bed when the alarm clock first beeped.  Instead, I chose to roll over and blindly smack the blessed snooze bar.  Apparently this was a mistake.  When the alarm beeped seven minutes later, it seemed that my fan club was waiting for me.

Grayson, a  15-year-old lab-beagle, was at the head of the bed, her snout mere inches from my hand .

Nike, our male tuxedo cat, rested on my chest.

As I withdrew my had from Grayson’s hot and stinky dog breath, Nike chose to begin licking my nose with his sandpaper-like tongue.  Uggh.  I had traded dog-breath for cat-breath.  How exactly does a cat who has never eaten a bite of fish in his life have breath that smells like fish?  It’s a complete mystery to me.  I pushed Nike off, and sat up to find Charlotte, our female tuxedo cat, sitting on the floor by Grayson, meowing.


See…Charlotte’s meow…it’s the same no matter what.  Have you ever seen the movie “Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs”?  Charlotte IS the monkey, Steve–except she isn’t voice by Neil Patrick Harris, which might make it more tolerable.  Every meow says pretty much the same thing in the same way:  food, love, food.

So that’s how I woke up this morning–to my semi-circle of love, my adoring fan club.

I’ve got to get out more.


One response to “Wildlife: My Fan Club

  1. I love it. I have Dusty, a 13 Yr Old Wheaten Terrier with breath that is so bad, you can almost see the vapors. And Roman, a 3 Yr Old female Pharoah Hound Mix who has some how achieved the holy grail of territorial rights to sleep on the bed with me while Dusty sleeps on the floor, right where I have to step to get out of bed, so I have to step OVER her.

    Roman starts yawning around 6:00, and the later it gets, the louder and more frequent the yawns become. I swear I have never seen anything like it. If I’m not up By 7:00 or 7:30, she’s literally SINGING ME AWAKE. lOVE MY girls, they’re so loyal and such great company. Seeya, Keri

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