Sunday, January 13, 2013


It was the usual 5 o'clock wake-up call. I rolled out of bed at the same time as Gregg.
"I'll get it," I said.
"No, I'll do it," replied my lovely husband, "No sense in both of us being up."
I was awake, so I threw on my sweats and followed him down the stairs. Gregg hooked Ray to the leash to take him out while I fixed a bowl of gruel for the old woman howling at my feet. I put the food in the microwave for its usual 6 seconds and took a step outside to see what the weather was like. It had been unusually warm the past few days, and the mornings have been foggy and eerie. This particular morning was relatively balmy and gently raining.
I reentered the house. Moonie was still in the kitchen, pacing, waiting for her breakfast. Gregg came in with Ray and turned him loose. I gave the dog's feet a halfhearted swipe with a towel and watched as he ambled toward the stairs then hesitate at the bottom step waiting for me to join him.
I put Moonie's food on the floor in front of her and went to join the dog. The second Ray realized I was headed his way, he hustled up the stairs at high-speed. By the time I reached the bedroom, Ray was walking circles on the bed, searching for the perfect place to plop.
I sighed and approached the bed; a strange noise was emanating from the bedclothes.
Hugo, who had been sleeping cuddled-up under the fleece throw was irately hissing and growling at the large interloper. Ray spun himself into a tight ball and curled up next to the cat, their rumps touching; he, on top of the covers, Hugo below.
I lifted a corner of the fleece expecting Hugo to bolt from his hidey-hole but the cat was not going to give up his piece of prime real estate that easily. I reached a hand under the blanket to pet the brave cat and was surprised by an enthusiastic purr.
I looked at the remaining section of mattress and measured it mentally against the size of my frame.
I squeezed in on my side and reveled in my own little peaceable kingdom.
Thirty minutes later, I was on my way back downstairs to a more comfortable sleeping arrangement on the couch.


  1. Sounds woefully familiar, last night Conor was being very babyish about sleeping in the bed provided for him, having spent all evening happily in it while we watched tv the moment we both went to bed he decided he was coming too, our carefully engineered device designed to prevent him barging through the door to us was determindley breached, accompanied by much whining, barking and stomping of doggy paws as he was forcibly ejected at least three times, finally he earned a slap on his rump, plus the door closed firmly behind him, I watched through the glass door as he considered his options, with a sigh he clambered onto the empty sofa, did a pirouette or two and slumped down, no doubt plotting tomorrow nights strategy.

  2. I don't know how our dogs got to be such prima donna spoiled brats

  3. Ray is just determined to take over isn't he? Gotta love that determination. At our house, there are only three that demand bed space, three are crated and one just can't be bothered. I know this will change, it always does!

    Good for Hugo for not getting up, he must have been very cozy under there.