Fatty begins pacing in front of the bedroom door, claws clicking on the wood floor. "Meow. Rowr? Woooooooow. "
Heavy sleep breathing stops for a minute.
"Meow? Mow. Woooooooow."
Two year-old Daughter bolts upright in her bed and raises her index finger to her lips, "Ssssshhhh!!"

"MEEEEEOOOOOW."
"Ssshh! Sh."
"Mah? Prrrow.Meeoow."
Yawning, turning over. "Sh." Heavy breathing ensues.
Angry, heavy footsteps begin chasing blubber belly down the hall. "Mahahahahah."
I smile to myself, thinking how nice it is that I don't live in a Studio with the black-furred singing twins from hell anymore. Even better is that I don't have to be the one chasing them around a 300 square foot circle with a squirt bottle at 2 a.m.. Or missing those last 15 minutes of morning sleep because the pre-alarms are sounding. Now I just have to play (or hear) the Shushing Game.
*Caterwauling technically refers to the crying of a female cat in heat (i.e. somebody come and get some of this and quick). But it is commonly also used to describe the kitty equivalent of howling at the moon a la Tom and Jerry, Sylvester, etc. You know, the singing in the moonlight on top of the fence that caused neighbors to throw shoes or pots and pans.
3 comments:
Did you know that the immensely average Bret Easton Ellis grew up in Sherman Oaks? Did you used to play on neighborhood swing sets with him?
You seem to be confusing my childhood with someone else's. There weren't too many swing sets in the mix.
The term "swing sets" reminds me of Rick Moody.
And Rick Moody reminds me of Bret Easton Ellis. And Bret Easton Ellis reminds me of Ellis Island. And Ellis Island reminds me that I need to go get lunch.
So here I go...
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