I knew it was coming. Watched enough weather segments on the news the past couple days to know it was on its way.
I just wasn’t expecting it.
I woke up sometime around 6am, mostly because Spooky was biting and aggressively licking me. Something she does whenever she wants my attention (add trying to chew on headset wires to that list,) or to let me know she’s hungry.
I was sooooo comfy under my heated blanket – thank you technology! – and didn’t feel all that compelled to get up, never mind her incessant nips and rough tongue attempting to separate the flesh from my bones.
It was when she decided to lightly drag her claws across my closed eyelids that got me up and about.
I happened to steal one glance outside from my window and needed to do a double take. Not only was the ground an unnatural white this time of year, the icky stuff was still coming down. The sight alone made my bones feel as though they aged decades more within those 5 seconds.
Begrudgingly, I shuffled my way down the creaky steps and into the kitchen. By then, my mother’s “demon-child” cat Sadie had clambered her way out of her puffy bed and sat waiting on the top of the fridge, and my own “old lady” cat Pepper eased her achy joints across the cold floor toward her food bowl.
As of late, Spooky has gotten quite aggressive toward the other two girls (a story I’ll divulge into later on), so her Wellness Chicken mush gets an extra “chill-pill” added (an anxiety pill that makes her sleep all day and act like a limp puppet). Pepper’s mush gets the standard epakitin powder for her kidneys and a scoop of grounded dried mussel powder for her joints. Sadie, on the other hand, thinks the mush is disgusting peasant food and would rather starve than submit her stomach to such torture. So she gets Tiki-Cat seafood inspired whatnot dripping in juice. No, she’s not spoiled in the least. (insert sarcasm here.)
Once all three “children”, as I like to call them, are fed, I bring Spooky and her bowl back upstairs; she can’t go back downstairs and pick a fight with Sadie if there’s no reason for her to be down there, (dried food, water, and litter box are also in my room for her.)
Of course, I could stay up and get some writing done, or do some editing, but that would mean having to acknowledge those snowflakes falling from the sky. That stuff belongs to Christmas and New Year’s, not when it’s May and supposed to have flowers popping up everywhere.
No, instead of being productive, I would rather curl up under my nice soft, warm blanket, and fall back asleep, dreaming of a warm sun and gardens growing bountiful veggies.
Maybe Mother Nature should take my actions and do the same? She’s obviously either confused, sick, or drunk.
Either way, she needs to go back to bed.
L.J. LaBree 