or, Even Drama Queens Sometimes Tell the Truth
I am NOT a morning person.
On a typical morning in our house, my husband takes Zoe, our dog, outside, while our cat Gus Gus watches from the kitchen window.
If they take too long, Gus will start screaming at the top of his lungs. He doesn’t like to be left alone (and he is very dramatic).
This usually wakes me up, and I’ll say, “Gus, come here!” He’ll then realize he hasn’t in fact been abandoned, and rush into the bedroom for snuggles and pets.
This morning, though, Gus was especially feisty, meowing and tearing around the house.
My husband took pity on me, snuggled under the down comforter trying to sleep, and shut Gus into the bathroom while he took Zoe outside. I was too sleepy to notice.
I sat up, groggy, and said, “Gus, c’mere!”
“MEOW! MEOW! You come here!”
“Gus Gus, come HERE!” I buried my head under the covers.
“MEOW! MEOW! MEOW! Come here!”
“Gus Gus! God helps those who help themselves, ya know,” I said, yawning.
“MEOWWWWWWWW! Come heeeeeeeeeerrrrreeeee!”
“Gus! Just come ‘ere and get your pets!”
“I CAN’T!”
“Whaddya mean you can’t?”
I stumbled out of bed and found him in the bathroom.
D’oh. He really couldn’t.