Thursday, May 19, 2011

A Billy Goat Short of a Petting Zoo.

I LOVE my little furkids. They entertain me 90% of the time I'm home alone. I would be bored to tears without them. I have conversations with them and I swear they understand what I'm talking about (yes, I acknowledge that makes me crazy. The only thing keeping me from being a legitimate crazy cat lady is the fact that I own a dog.)

However, sometimes...only sometimes, two animals is a little ridiculous for one single woman. I have always said I want two kids. One boy, one girl. This probably has a lot to do with the fact that that's how I grew up, and if you haven't noticed it yet, I dig my childhood. However, I also attribute this to my affinity towards man to man defense. I've never been a big fan of the zone approach. Too chaotic, too hard to be proactive and know what's coming. I much prefer knowing who's my man and being able to zone in on one person...or in this case furkid. Two animals to one human eliminates the opportunity for man to man. I am forced into the zone defense and sometimes I fail miserably.

For example, mornings. 99% of all mornings I wake up in a haze. I blame the fact that I incessantly hit the snooze button 10 minutes at a time for generally no less than a half an hour. It's ridiculous and makes me despise actually getting out of bed. My sleepy brain tells me it's 10 more minutes of sleep...logic tells me it's not sleep and it makes me more exhausted when I actually pull my ass out of bed. (Which is coincidentally when the first expletive is uttered for the day.)

In said snooze haze first thing I do every single morning is go to the bathroom. Bella and Gracie weave in and out of my legs as I make the short 10 foot walk to the bathroom. I trip over one or both of them every single morning leaving me inches from falling down the stairs. And now I'm awake. (Cue second expletive.)

Bella hops in the bathtub, Gracie in the sink. This is their subtle way of alerting me to their dire need for water, as if I've left them parched for days. Bella whines, Gracie meows, I swear. (There's the third!) Repeat for however long it takes me to pee. Good morning, sunshines! Gracie gets fed first because her food is upstairs in the spare bedroom. On the desk. Oh? What's that you say? You want to know why the food is on the desk? Because it's the only surface that both Bella cannot jump on and I don't prepare or eat food on / off of. Bella much preferred the extra caloric kitty food to her own dog food and would eat it before Gracie ever had a chance. So up to the desk it went.

Then I head downstairs. Bella is either weaving between my legs the entire trip down the stairs or literally being dragged down them as she likes to chomp down on my pants leg and follow that way. I give her food and water. By the time I pour my coffee she has downed the ENTIRE bowl of water. Seriously the way this dog drinks is insane and also the messiest event that takes place in my kitchen. She doesn't lap, she deep sea dives. If you watch her drink through a clear bowl you can see the bubbles she blows out of her nose as she sticks her entire muzzle into the bowl and inhales water. It's a sight to see, people are always amazed. When she pulls her small head out of the water bowl it is SOAKING wet. And then she walks around the table in the kitchen leaving a small stream in her path. (If I'm wearing socks, this is where expletive #4 comes in as they are now soaked.)

But at this point, all is good. I've got my coffee and at this point they're both pretty tired from all the excitement. As I head back upstairs Bella usually has already beaten me and is back in bed for nap #1 of the day. Gracie is at the window cackling at birds and other small creatures. And I can begin my day.

This? This is why I believe I am just a billy goat away from being able to charge admission into my home. The Nikolas Petting Zoo.

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