Who Needs Roosters?

Even though it’s only just 7 pm, I’m really sleepy. This condition is due, in part, to eating too much Thanksgiving cherry pie a la mode and mashed potatoes a la gravy. (I told Hubby that I felt like I’d just eaten a deep-fried whale and would never be hungry again.) But the primary cause of my blurry vision and heavy eyelids is presently scratching Hubby’s new chair: the cat.

Smokey’s latest hunting schedule compels him to wake me up between 3 and 4 am to let him outside. I don’t rouse easily, but after a series of meows and crashes (from books and other items being systematically knocked off my nightstand), I’m awake. As I grope in the dark for my glasses, my arm is batted by the Terrible Tiger. (The latter is one of Smokey’s alter-egos; if he was the Evil Moriarty, he’d be drawing blood.) Next, Bodie (the dog) goes out to scout for danger. Meanwhile, I stand with the door open, waiting for Bodie to somehow communicate the “all clear” sign to the Terrible Tiger, who then joins him outside. Two to fifteen minutes later, depending on the temperature and availability of cottontails to chase, Bodie scratches on the door to be let inside. All of this fresh, frosty air wakes me up enough that I can’t go back to sleep.

Nevertheless, if asked to enumerate all for which I’m grateful, Smokey and Bodie would be near the top of that very long list. Right after their names, though, I’d have to write “coffee”.

 

“The earth is full of His unfailing love.” –PSALM 33:5