I slept on the downstairs couch last night with a dog at my feet and a cat on my back (literally).  I haven’t seen a human since Friday.  One more night then I get to return to my little home.

It’s funny isn’t it?  How quickly we miss our routine – our space and obviously our loved ones.

Why did I sleep on the couch?   I was a little concerned that if I was too comfortable, I’d not hear my alarm.  There’s an hour time difference between where I’m staying and where I work.  I had to be up at O’Dark Thirty.

Another reason?  The home is big and to be honest, I didn’t want to be upstairs in a bedroom and hear something creak or move in the night.  lol.  I figure if a serial killer was to enter the house, I’d be able to leap off the couch and to the closest weapon dispensary (the kitchen) if I stayed downstairs.

Turns out it would have been a little tough ‘leaping’ though as I was pinned down most of the night by Plucky.  She’s … um, I’m trying to find a kind way to describe an overly affectionate, needy, clueless cat.  She just will not take a hint.  And as much as I adore her – I woke several times to her either a) on my bladder or b) with her nose on my lips as she perched on my chest.  Thus why I turned onto my stomach to sleep.

The other felines are pretty relaxed.

But there’s the constant threat of one of them getting out.  I lost TWO cats over the weekend.  First time was Foo and it took FOREVER outside shaking the treat container to get him back inside.  Lost him again the next day, but only briefly.  And then Plucky.  *sigh*

You see, Meesha, the pup, can open the screen door from the outside and god forbid I’ve gone to use the bathroom or in another part of the house when she decides to let herself back in.  I found the screen open twice yesterday and had to do a frantic head count.

It’s a dance.  The whole operation of the home is a choreographed dance.

And you’d better know all the moves – even if you’re sleep deprived from a night of attempted smothering.