We all have our guilty pleasures. Things that our spouses or loved ones do that crack us up that really shouldn’t.
We have two cats. Unfortunately, they are really dogs in cats bodies’ (read: incredibly people oriented and friendly and affectionate). They love hanging out with the wee ones, and they’re so excited when we and they get up in the morning. In fact, if it was their option, the wee ones would get up much earlier. To that end, they like to sit outside their bedroom doors and meow. Loudly. Sometimes they choose to do this in the middle of the night, as well.
Needless to say, the buddies get banished to the basement each night before we go to bed. This job falls to my husband. The fat one (Meow) is pretty docile and mellow and goes along with it all. Sometimes he walks into the basement by himself even. At the very least, he allows himself to be picked up and carried to the basement.
The wily one (Roar), on the other hand, would prefer to stay up with us, and he lets us know it. If he sees me heading upstairs at night, he’ll meow at me to hurry before snuggling in with me. When my husband picks him up to take him to the basement, he gives a very dignified squeak of dismay.
More often though, he runs when he sees my husband approaching at the witching hour. And since we have an open floor plan where you can walk around the entire house, he runs in circles (much like the wee ones play their “running game”). With my husband chasing him.
Roar used to run around one time and then give up and head into the basement on his own terms. Lately though, he’s been a bit more determined. So around and around they go before my husband finally convinces him to head downstairs. The whole game has become a highlight of my evening, and I’m disappointed when I miss it. Fortunately, my husband is good natured enough to allow me to laugh at his attempts to herd a cat.
Ahhh, and here they go. Excuse me while I go laugh for awhile!