So it’s Sunday morn and I already went to mass yesterday, sang the songs for the choir. Oh my ...what a story about my church I got...might be I share. Maybe not.
Anyway, can sleep late, until 8 in the am or so, then get up and do my Sunday cooking chores. I love Sundays, enjoy this thread, watch the talk shows, putter around.
6:45 am, the dog, which sleeps in my bedroom, comes out from her hidey hole and begins pacing. She’s ten years old and drinks a lot as they begin to do at that age. Thus she pees a lot. Oncit in a while she pees on the bedroom floor, gotta watch her carefully.
Well I didn’t especially want to get up so early, earlier than my other week days, but I’ll never complain should she tell me she needs to go outside, no sir. So I get up, let her out the back. SHE GOES UNDER THE DECK! She don’t even pee!
Well what hey?
So I call her back, come on JoAnn, you wake me up and don’t even pee? We go back in bedroom, she goes back in hidey hole, I try to sleep.
But this new kitten we got, love him dearly but he’s bad, dear Lord he’s bad. Every morning I got to give him a smidge of Frskies or he shall die any second, he is on his last legs.
Gerald is his name. He thinks I’ve lost my mind getting up and getting him all ready for some Friskies and a puddle of milk, being it’s his last breath and everything. So he begins scratching at my bedroom door and howliing as he has only two, maybe three breaths left before starvation overtakes him.
The dog, meanwhile, gets up once again and once again, now really mad, I let her out back to pee and this time she does. But she pees but a little so whatever had her spooked it wasn’t a full bladder.
Gerald, meanwhile, has to drag his body through the house as he pleads with me for food that he may live another day.
ONE MORE TIME...I go into bedroom, hoping for that one extra hour of sleep.
No go. Dog once again gets up, panting and heaving like she does when she’s scared. Gerald is about to go any second and by now he’s throwing himself at the closed bedroom door.
So I gave it up and got up.
I don’t know what’s wrong with the dog. She’s got amazing hearing, as dogs do. I suspect she heard thunder somewhere as she is terrified of thunderstorms. Or maybe an earthquake.
Y’all remember that earthquake that rocked the east coast? Knocked over a glass on my kitchen counter? Yup, JoAnn heard that and behaved the same way.
As for Gerald, well he’ll live another day as he finally got some Friskies and a puddle of milk, God Bless.
What a hilarious tale about Gerald the cat, and JoAnn the dog. Does JoAnn also have high cheekbones, like all "Indians" (except Elizabeth Warren) do?
Thanks so much for the laughs about Gerald!