Just short of 5 am, I find myself hostage to two felines. One climbs onto the covers next to me and stares into my soul with his big green eyes, daring me to see how ravished he is. The other bounces from night stand to dresser, knocking things down with his paws, angry at the injustice of waiting to be let outdoors.
I snap my fingers at them, wanting to take back some kind of power, but nothing doing. They’re in complete control. If they continue their shenanigans they awaken the wildlings, and somehow they seem to enjoy knowing that.
Defeated, I climb out of bed and give in to their commands. Mr. Bow Tie, his criminal name, follows me to the food container outside to be sure I’m following orders. They inhale three small bites and lick their paws like that fills the void that had created the cavernous hole in their stomachs, thus hailing their hostage from slumber.
I sigh and sink into my chair, relieved their demands have been met and I can have some morning quiet time, but alas, their accomplice arrives. Tiptoeing and grunting from the top of the stairs is “Skippy Jo Jane,” (her criminal name.) The relentless Chauweenie, helpless in her own right, demands I assist her with her morning constitution and fill her bowls as well. All the while, my fearless guard dog sleeps placidly nearby.
The hostage situation comes to a peaceful end, and the household is still once again. I’d better get to my quiet time before a whole new set of occupants need assistance.
#heldhostagebycats #pethostage #asyouwish