I heard the familiar chirp from my little black cat Ruby, she chirps, apparently meowing is passe' in her world, but it's cute. However, this particular chirp was a demand to "get the fuck out of bed or I'll piss on you" chirp. I rolled over. She pissed right on top of me.
I thought nothing of it when she starting using her front paws to scratch at the sheets, she likes to hide and play in the folds of blankets, it's not unusual. What is unusual is the warmth I felt on my hip approximately 3 minutes after I started to amuse my waking moments watching her..."play". And then I smelled it, and then I was PISSED literally and figuratively, damnit.
Ruby is pissed about something and the only thing I can figure is that she's sick of seeing my ass around the apartment, it's her not-so subtle way of telling me to get my ass back to work. Perhaps the piss assault was brought on because I changed the direction of my bed, once North/South, now East/West. I don't know, but what I do know is that is no way to wake up, being treated like a cat box and all.
All right already, I'll find a job, after I wash all my goddamned linens that is. But listen up Ms. Ruby, I like where the bed is at so I hope that's not what your pissed about, if it is I'll be on you like Democrat all over a pissy (heh) and decidedly conservative 9-11 movie, because I like the position of the bed.
I should thank her for dragging my lazy ass out of bed before 9 a.m., if pissing on the "bringer of food" is motivation, then perhaps Tony Robbins could learn a thing or two. Oh how I wished that cats could talk, but alas, they meow or in this case "chirp" when they're pissed and then I get pissed on. Happy Friday, "chirp".