Today was the perfect day for an afternoon nap. It was quiet, and all four cats were asleep, leaving no one to torment me in my quest for sleep. Just looking at them, all curled up, warm and fuzzy, with the blissful expressions that belie what monsters they actually are . . . I just couldn't pass up the chance. Who knows when this could happen again? Normally at least one of them would be doing something insanely annoying. The atmosphere of sleep was so pervasive, I was drowsy just looking at them.
A generous amount of naptime later, I began dreaming about a dog barking. It was ever so quiet, as if the dog were miles away, and I could barely hear it. Now, in the original dream I was having, there were no barking dogs. I was hiding from aliens. Eventually though, the barking gradually got louder, and began to disturb the plot of my alien story. The barking was still quiet though. I mumbled to myself in my dream, "That sounds a little like Bitzy". I began thinking more in my dream, and the aliens went away quietly, much to my relief.
Now I'm still sound asleep here, but instead of dreaming, I'm in a complete fog of stupidity about the barking dog. I'm not real smart in my sleep.
Hm. That really does sound like Bitzy. But it can't be, cause she's not far away like that. She's right here in the house, and probably asleep. And she'd be barking really loud if she was in the house, and I'd be jumping out of my skin. And anyway, how would she even have gotten out? Nah, it's not her. But the funny thing is, that dog is getting a little louder. Is it because I'm waking up just a little because there is a real dog barking somewhere? Or is there a dog just getting closer in my dream and I'm still dreaming? Either way, whatever is happening, the dog is getting louder. And that dog sounds exactly like Bitzy. Maybe it's just some other dog that sounds like her, because I really can't wake up right now, no matter how hard I want to.
CRAP. I need to wake up. Even if it's not Bitzy, I need to know for sure. It's really unlikely that another dog sounds like her yippy little Rat Terrier self. I really, really need to wake up. The dog is getting louder. For cryin' out loud, it sounds EXACTLY like her. And it doesn't sound like she's in the back yard, where she should be. The sound is coming from the front of the house. WAKE UP WAKE UP gosh darn it, I can't open my eyes. If my eyes could just open, I could maybe move my limbs. I'm asleep!!! I can't move anything. Crap crap crap.
Finally, my eyes unglued themselves and opened into little slits. I'm awake now, even if I can't move and now I know that's gotta be my dog out there. That's her annoying little yippy bark all right, with the strange combination of fierce gutteral growling. I don't even know how she manages those two sounds at once. Yup, she's after something, and that's not her Squirrel bark, either. That's her Human bark, and it's the Big Scary Guy bark, and she's gonna chew the leg off some big scary guy if she can just get hold of him. I manage to drag myself on my belly a few inches to my curtains, and pull them aside just in time to see our mail carrier, right in front of my house! And he is definitely a Big Guy, and therefore doubly evil, wearing that uniform and all. And there is Bitzy herding him, running around him in circles and barking her head off. For crying out loud!!! I've probably been hearing her for miles! That's why it was quiet for so long!! If it weren't so appalling, it would be funny - her little black and white Rat Terror self, with every molecule of her body in attack mode - going in a circle around the mailman, and she is about the size of one of his shoes.
I have to get her right now!! Before she's gone with the mail guy, down the block, and probably into his car with him. Not that he'll want her, but she'll most likely not take no for an answer. What do you think they do with dogs that insist on coming to the post office? Wow, then she'd really have a ton of postal workers to bark at. Problem is, I still can't really move right at all. This is like trying to move through ten feet of water. I have. to get. out. of. the. bed. I slide off, and land somewhat on my feet, still hanging onto the bed covers so I don't end up on a pile on the floor. Gotta get to the front door. Wait. I need pants. Where are my pants? Why didn't I put on pajama pants? I seriously can't go to the door in my underwear, not if I have to chase a dog down the street. How am I going to chase a dog in my sleep?
There they are, in a wad on the floor. Looking at those pants, nothing has ever seemed so difficult as getting to them, and getting them on. Why are they so far away?? Much less get the dog. Maybe the mail guy would like having a dog. Well, judging by the look on his face, probably not so much. But he might have to help me get her. I really, really need those pants. I staggered sideways back and forth across the bedroom floor, swept them up in a drunken motion, and stuck one leg in. I proceeded to hop around in a panic, trying to get the leg all the way in and down to the floor. I hopped all the way to the front door going in circles, and manage to have both legs in and pulled them up with my left hand, just as I opened the door with my right hand.
There was the Big Mail Guy, right in front of me. Right there in front of my door. I have all my pajamas on and all, (it's about three in the afternoon) but my hair is pretty sure to be sticking out in all directions, and I have a half asleep crazed look in my eyes. He'd probably have been surprised at the timing of me opening the door right on him, had his nerves not been completely frayed by my Rat Terror. I know how she can erase your brain pretty quickly. He's being pretty careful not to look at me. I opened the outer glass door to get the dog in, praying that she will obey, instead of taking off down the street, which is a distinct possibility.
I'm SO SORRY BITZY GET IN HERE!!!
Miraculously, she does decide to come in the house, and zooms past my feet. Without missing a beat, the mailman mutters how it's fine, and keeps he going as fast as his feet can carry him.
Oh Dear God! It wasn't fine!! How long did that poor man have to listen to my dog, and how many people probably stopped dead in their tracks to watch the whole business? What if he's on Youtube by now? What kept him from drop kicking her across the street? How will I ever face him again? He's a really nice mail guy too. He didn't deserve that at all, and now I'll be too embarrassed to even look at him. Maybe he'll quit, and I'll never see him again. I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to see my dog. Or I'll hide for six months or so, and then pretend to be someone else who moved in.
So Bitzy trots in the house, with her little Hot Shot walk, black and white tail in the air, right past me, not even the least bit contrite.
Bitzy!! Bad Dog!!
She looks over her shoulder at me for maybe three seconds, faking a little guilty cringe. Then she plops herself down, panting after all the hard work of policing the neighborhood. She grins when she pants, which is utterly maddening right now. She's sitting there grinning, and nothing I say to her makes one little bit of difference.
In her mind she has saved the day. She has protected not only her house and all its cats, but the entire block. Maybe even several blocks! (from the sound of it, it may have been several miles) She's not hearing one word I say about how she could have been run over, or eaten by a bigger dog. Much less drop kicked by a postman.
Ah well, might as well let her have her day.
