Honey has taken to scratching to be let out about 30 minutes before my alarm goes off, which is arguably the worst time to wake me up. It’s too late for me to actually go back to sleep, but too early that I should go ahead and get up.
Every time this happens I have to control my urge to throw things at her. Like a pillow, or my shoe or maybe the table lamp. I also have to bite my tongue so that I don’t go into an angry rant along the lines of:
“You know, some of us WORK in this household! Some of us aren’t able to just lie around the house all day, not pulling their weight! Who, exactly, do you think buys your food?? I DO!! I work SO HARD just so that you can live a comfortable life and you can’t even do me the favor of BEING QUIET FOR 30 MINUTES while I’m trying to sleep?!?”
I, of course, do not say any of this out loud because my stepfather Henry would think I was weird. (Chase wouldn’t bat an eye) And because Honey would probably figure out a way to flip me the doggie finger, and then I would have to kill her.
For just one day, I want to be able to lie around and do nothing. I want my main concern to be, “where am I going to sleep once the sun becomes to hot?” I want someone else to prepare and bring me all of my food.
In short, I want to be one of my pets. For just a day.
What a bitch.