Not Exactly What I Planned to Blog Today
I've been a little out of sorts all day, because I was awakened by an event not unlike #5 on this list (two years ago already! Wow!) at 1:30 this morning. I was awakened by the growling, but as I was getting out of bed to check on the Cat she let out her rarely-used, high-decibel bloodcurdling scream.
When I peeked behind the curtain to see if anything was on the patio--all the while the Cat is still grumbling and my heart is pounding--I found no four-legged creature there. My guesses:
(a) another cat who was not stalking-ly in love with her (unlike the 2008 visitor);
(b) something of the scavenger variety (raccoon, possum--but not squirrel/chipmunk/mouse, because she silently hunts those);
(c) a big dumb deer who wandered across from the courtyard. (Hey, it could happen.)
So after I reassured the cat that everything was O.K., I stumbled back to bed and waited for my pulse to settle down. . . all the while fuming at the Cat for interrupting the beautiful dream I was having in which I was cooking breakfast with Matt Bomer.
Yeah, I said cooking breakfast. Pretty friggin' hot, right?
Uhhhh. . . no.
I'm beginning to think that G-rated fantasies might mean I need to get away for a while. Or that the universe needs to take pity on a single gal.
When I peeked behind the curtain to see if anything was on the patio--all the while the Cat is still grumbling and my heart is pounding--I found no four-legged creature there. My guesses:
(a) another cat who was not stalking-ly in love with her (unlike the 2008 visitor);
(b) something of the scavenger variety (raccoon, possum--but not squirrel/chipmunk/mouse, because she silently hunts those);
(c) a big dumb deer who wandered across from the courtyard. (Hey, it could happen.)
So after I reassured the cat that everything was O.K., I stumbled back to bed and waited for my pulse to settle down. . . all the while fuming at the Cat for interrupting the beautiful dream I was having in which I was cooking breakfast with Matt Bomer.
Yeah, I said cooking breakfast. Pretty friggin' hot, right?
Uhhhh. . . no.
I'm beginning to think that G-rated fantasies might mean I need to get away for a while. Or that the universe needs to take pity on a single gal.
Comments
Angela--now you have me wondering if Cat saw a ghost or something. . . ooooo. . .
Sorry you didn't actually get to eat your breakfast.
Dave--startling, isn't it? You wonder if the volume of their noise just SHATTERED whatever was "out there."
'Fly--oh, yes, she's the neighborhood watchcat. I should tell her she owes me breakfast, but it just wouldn't be the same. Sigh.