Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Turn that Thing OFF

Someone was standing at my bedroom door, whining. It was 5:45 a.m. I got out of bed, blundered into my robe and sweatpants (it was COLD) and stumbled down the stairs with a rubbery nose pressed into the back of my thigh. I slid opened the door to let Ray out, pausing to make sure that he didn't start yelling (sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn't). I was sliding the door closed when the blind hound fooled me once again and yelled, then took off across the yard into the treed area of the back, yelling like crazy. I ran to get my shoes and bolted out the door to try to shut him up before he woke the whole neighborhood.
Ray was excited, bumping into trees, and pacing the fence that separated our yard from the neighbor's. I called to him. He started to come to me and was almost within arms reach when he turned and took off again to the far side of the yard, yelling the whole way, followed by me, yelling at him (in what I like to think of as a whisper). I grabbed his collar and led him into the house.
I went back to bed putting the hook on the bedroom door to keep Ray at bay. He whined briefly then curled up on the futon with a deep sigh. A minute later, my alarm went off. I slapped it off. Two minutes later the arrrrrooooo alarm went off. I spoke soothingly to Ray and told him that everything was fine. He growled and grumbled a bit but settled back down. Five minutes later the arrrrooooo alarm went off again. I wondered where the off button was.

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