I have no idea what I'm talking about
This has been a strange weekend. I don’t even know where to being, so I’ll start at the end. The Joneses are apparently keeping up with us now! We have inspired them to get a new puppy—the litter mate to the grandpuppy. They got the last puppy from that litter so we are now officially related to the neighbors.
I do find the puppy thoroughly adorable, but I’ve decided that I would rather be my cat. Life is mighty good for the cat named Henry Chow.
I haven’t felt well today, and so I have done little more than lay around the house all day, and while I have relaxed, I have taken notice of the fact that Henry Chow has slept nearly all day long. He has changed spots a few times, but he slept literally all day. And as far as cats go, he isn’t overly rambunctious at night either. My son seems to think he is storing his energy…for one serious attack!
I see him stealing peeks at the people (and other animals) in our house with sly sideways glances. He is biding his time—making plans.
He is lulling everyone into a false sense of security. He is good. But I am better. I am on to his evil plot. I pet him, and feed him, and change out his litter so he has a clean place to dig in the sand. He comes running when I call his name, he waits for me when I leave the house, and is excited to see me when I come home. I belong to him.
I am his pet.
Because of this, I consider myself safe from his pending attack. I will be spared—because no matter how devious and brilliant Henry Chow may be, he still can’t open the cat food bag by himself. And even if he was willing to chew his way to the food inside, he would run out sooner or later, and needs someone to get more.
That’s where I come in.
Of course that’s just a theory. I don’t really understand much of what Henry Chow says. I don’t speak Himalayan.
Maybe I shouldn’t have mixed the cold medicine with the caffeine.
What I’m supposed to be doing tonight (instead of watching the Oscars) is reading the book for tomorrow night’s book club. I actually bought it this time. I was going to surprise everyone. They would never expect me to read the book. I mean, yeah, that’s sort of the point of book club, but I never read the book. It’s my thing. Mrs. Jones reads the book, and lives the book, and breathes the book. I read the Cliff’s Notes. But this time, I bought the book. I had a plan. There was a definite effort made. So much for good intentions.
Maybe next time.
What I think I may end up doing tonight is going to sleep early. Wouldn’t that be a great feat? I think it might just be the only way to escape the puppy farts in my living room. But hey, puppy arts are funny, right? I suppose that’s a place to end the night!
Until the next time…I’ll be dreaming of a wonderful blog to write another day.