Story time…

Story time! This is a horrible picture of me as I tucked into bed before eleven last night. For background to the events of last night, it is important to note that the normal rountine around here is that, while Mom will give us a snack if Dad is going to be late, Dad almost always gives us dinner. This routine keeps my darling feline sister, Faye (who is at least three yesrs older than me and thus ancient and out of her mind) from spending all hours of her day yowling at Mom for dinner.

Ok. Well. Mom went to bed and as always, I went to bed with her, keeping an ear out for dad’s arrival like I usually do. Fast foward. Dad had gotten carried away doing design at work and lost track of time. So at two thirty in the morning, by which time I had given up on dinner and had fallen soundly asleep, I heard dad come home.

Screw that. A quarter to three in the moring is an indecent time to do anything other than sleep so I ignore his arrival. I can deal without dinner, but a pup must have her beauty sleep!

Dad, worried, called for me a few times, but I had gone back to sleep. He came upstairs and gently scritched me awake and let me know dinner was out and ready, so I grudgingly came downstairs.

After dinner he insisted I go outside, despite the horrid hour. I resisted but at 10.5lbs, I can’t resist much and found myself set outside. ::sigh:: So, I started to do my business, ONLY TO FIND MYSELF SHOT ON THE KEISTER BY THE BIGGEST SQUIRT BOTTLE EVER.


I may never speak to him again.


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