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The Evilness of Catdog – 1st of August 2012

August 1, 2012

Beeeh beeeh (is that the noise Goats make in greeting?) Hi.

So right now I’m sitting in bed, just having finished what was meant to be a charming afternoon nap before I go to work tonight. Today was bitterly cold, but when I was walking home from Uni in the early afternoon it was also quite sunny. Cold + Sun = sedation of Goats.

Anyway, by the time I’d caught the bus part way home from Uni with Horse and then walked myself the half an hour or so it takes to get from the bus stop to my kitchen for a small feast, I was well and truly ready for a nap. I ask you world: what Uni student doesn’t love a good nap in the afternoon?….. or at any time for that matter?

It was meant to be brilliant. It was meant to be refreshing and desperatly difficult to force myself to get up from because it was going to be so comfortable and warm. After my 7am wake up to make a 9am class at Uni (felt like 3am), my thoughts this morning were largely occupied with floating pillows and hot water bottles. My afternoon nap was going to be great.

No. That is not what it was. Refreshing and warm and daisy-chain-rainbow good was not what I achieved with sleep. In fact I failed to achieve much sleep it all.

And why, you might ask, did this happen? I’ll tell you. I was sabotaged by Cat and Dog who spent their morning at home in the backyard, conspiring a way to keep me conscious.

And I am out for revenge.

Here’s how it went: After my small feast, I sauntered upstairs to my room, shut the blind to the window that provides a really awkward line of sight from my pillow into my neighbours garage and snuggled myself under my doona. Ahh, I was in Uni Student heaven.

The first part of my pets plan utilised a fairly common operation know as the Doorbanger. It’s a standard wake-everyone-in-the-house-up-in-the-morning procedure, utilised after Dog’s released from her sleeping quarters in the laundry at about 6:00am. This operation involves Dog, sitting outside my room, hitting my closed door over and over again with her paw, just hard enough so that the door bounces back and forth inside it’s frame, soundly vaguely like a gunshot. My reaction to this was the standard ‘give in to Dog,’ which essentially has me, semi conscious, fall out of bed (sometimes quite literally – damn laptop cords!) and let Dog into my room. Initially, in peace time, pre-Dog, my morality would never let me give into this kind of blackmailing treachery. But I have become a learned coward since then, and know that there is no hope of ‘waiting out’ the Doorbanger. The Doorbanger operation will continue no matter how long it must go on, or how many gunshots it must fire into my room.

So I give in. Operative A successfully enters bedroom while Goat stumbles back to bed, furious but in an amalgamated state of anger and sleep, which pretty much means I grunt before hitting the pillow again.

Phase 1 complete.

Phase 2: The Sleezy boyfriend

After re-finding that exact perfect position with my covers suitably arranged so that the cold air is blocked out by just the right amount of insulation and snuggleness, Dog decides that it’s time to get on the bed. So she does. But the thing is, my dog isn’t Lassie. In fact Dog (especially since she got clipped last week) looks nothing remotely like Lassie, nor does she have good manners and hence doesn’t curl up neatly on the corner of the bed near my feat. No. Dog walks up to my head using me as a footpath, comes right up to my face and plants a big juicy wet tongue smack bang in the middle of my nose and forehead. She then lies down so close to me that all her weight falls against my side, sending me in a slow motion slide towards the approaching cliff at the side of my bed. Dog isn’t that big, but today taught me that physics works in mysterious ways and small dogs can cause a large inconvenience to a human if determined to.

Phase 3: The Party Animal

After moving Dog and her damn, cute little brown eyes to an appropriate position on the bed, Operative B enters for his solo. This may be an appropriate moment to state that despite my overall state of fury-psychosis at the moment, I loyally maintain that Cat is the cutest animal to ever grace the face of the earth. Unfortunatly, he is well aware of this fact and I shall say nothing else complementary because I am too mad at him at this point in time.

It starts with a little scratch in the back of my dreams, a little scratching ‘meow’ that quickly wakes me from my sanctuary of non-pet-hindered psychology. My eyes open, I wipe away the small piece of drool that’d gracefully made its way from my mouth to my chin and let out a moan of frustration that was comparable to what I imagine a Whale sounds like when it is giving birth. I know what that little scratching ‘meow’ means. Cat has climbed on the to the roof and is outside my window, wanting me to let him in. With effort exceeding that which it took to get man onto the moon, I heave myself from bed, zombie my way over to the window and let him in. Conveniently my window is stiff, so finding the strength to open and close it in my state was comparable to something very painful I can’t think of in my current, nanna-nap deprived state. I let Cat in, go back to bed, push Dog back to her rightful spot next to my feet and close my eyes. But Cat wants to party. This is bad. When Cat wants to party, there is no amount of patting, warm milk or bad disco tune in the world that can stop him. Obviously this part is not completely ture, after all, Cat is a Cat and doesn’t tend to get down and physically boogie all that often. No, Cat’s version of party means to wander around my room, ‘meowing’ to get into cupboads and knocking things over and generally causing disruption until I go insane. It worked. The thing is, unlike all the other well known elements of Cat and Dogs plan, there is no remedy for this kind of behaviour. 1: because Cat knows that he is so heartbreakingly cute that it is impossible to get mad at him and 2: because there is no way to stop him once he hits the dance floor… so to speak.

So yeah Cat and Dog successfully executed operation: ‘No napping for Goat.’ Now, as the afternoon progresses we have hit somewhat of a stand off in our relationship. I will not give in. I must not give in. I probably will give in. But never fear, they may have won this battle, but I will not let them win the war. I am secretly trying to develop a way to take down the branch that lets Cat climb onto the roof and barricade the stairs in the house so that Dog can’t make it to my bedroom door. If it is the last thing I do, I will find a way to rescue my afternoon nap from the evil wrath of The Cutenesses.

Umm, so that’s it. The end.

Got to write only a little bit today but didn’t get a whole lot done. No uni tomorrow so I can focus on finishing chapter 8 in the morning.

Errr, so it seems like I’m now running late for work cause this took me like 2 hours to write. Again, no time to edit.

Going to try and stay awake,

Goat

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