I have a hard life. There have been so many changes recently that the stress of all of it has just about pushed me off the cliff of sanity. (But at least I’m poetic.) Ever since Momma brought the Minion home I’ve had increased responsibilities. For example, I have to clean up after the Little Thing. He has a habit of throwing his fish sticks and chicken nuggets on the floor. After he eats, I crawl underneath the table and clean them off the floor. This new routine has done terrible things to my waistline. Rude!
I also have to guard Momma. She nurses the Minion a lot and whenever she does this I sit behind her head to ward off anyone who might want to hurt Momma while she’s in such a vulnerable position. Yesterday I saved her life almost three times.
The first time was when Boy-Dadda came marching down the stairs and into the living room. I stood at the end of the couch and hissed and snarled at him. “BACK OFF PREVERT!” (Stupid spell check keeps telling me that “pervert” is spelled wrong) Then I slapped at him. He laughed at him. He thought it was a game. I didn’t take my eyes off him for a second.
After he left Little Missy jumped onto the couch. “Why did you hiss at Dadda?”
“Because,” I began. “Momma is nursing and needs to be protected. Speaking of which, what part of, ‘BACK OFF PREVERT’ don’t you understand?” I lunged at Little Missy but she just stood there. Moron!
The next threat to Momma was posed by the Little Thing himself. He started knee-crawling over to Momma armed with a board book. I scrunched down low on the couch, preparing to pounce.
“No, no, Gwennie,” Little Missy said. “No, no. He’s just a little thing. We don’t pounce the Little Thing.”
I shoved my butt up into the air and wiggled it. “He’s got teeth now. He can bite.”
“He won’t bite Momma. He loves Momma. Just leave him be.”
“He’s armed,” I said, “He’s got a weapon in his hand.” I could feel my heart race and blood pulse through my little, furry body as I prepared to pounce.
Then out of nowhere, I felt something scrape up against me. As I was falling off the couch I saw that Little Missy threw a pillow at me. Traitor!
Fortunately I landed on all fours but Little Missy’s betrayal helped the Little Thing. He made it to Momma with the book in hand. Next time I’ll be prepared. I’ll take out Little Missy first and then I’ll pounce the Little Thing. Nobody messes with my Momma or me! NOBODY!
This is Gwennie – signing!