Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

August 14, 2009

For years now, I have been puzzled by the sleeping habits of other creatures, humans in particular. When humans wake up, they walk about like zombies for a bit and mumble things about ‘needing coffee’, which they then make, and drink, and feel better. Why? Why not just sleep for longer, so they don’t need anything to make them feel better? It is a mystery. The Baby doesn’t need coffee. I wonder at what age humans stop sleeping properly and start depending on this ‘coffee’ to help them function? Curious.

More curious than that, though, is the receptacle  The Hippy uses to drink her coffee. Actually, she doesn’t drink coffee, she drinks something called a ‘fruit infusion’.  Anyhoo, since I arrived I have been bemused by the cup she drinks her ‘fruit infusions’ in. I thought she had some sort of trouble with her wrists, as her cup has a strangely long handle.



That’s right. It’s a penis. I can see that now. How does that go? ‘Hmmm, it’s morning. Feel a bit tired. I know what’ll pick me up – some fruit flavoured hot water and the feel of a pottery penis’. What other animal IN THE WORLD would consider starting their day with a pottery penis? I must admit, it’s thrown me a bit.

This realisation, however, was just the first in a line of unneccessary revelations today. And all before lunch.

Today was a hot day, so That Black Dog was really useful and slept. I had a notion that dogs were supposed to fetch papers and sticks and generally run around in a frolicsome fashion, but this one seems to just sleep, eat my Iams, eat his Iams, eat more of my Iams and sleep some more, all the while smelling mildly of haddock.  At least today he managed to go outside with the rest of the family. And sleep.

There was further evidence today of the madness of The Mushroom. They were all outside. It was sunny. It’s nice to lie in the sun. I like it. The Mushroom, however, appears to think lying in the sun is similar to, I don’t know,  pouring flamable liquid on yourself and lighting it. She was sitting with The Baby and my Dad, fiddling with a giant umbrella.

“Move it to the left, love. Her leg is in the sun.”

My Dad sighed. “Only an inch of her leg is in the sun. And she’s wearing sun block. And in any case, as soon as you let go of her she’ll move anyway.”

“That’s not the point.” [I need to point out, here, that the phrase, ‘That’s not the point’ is, in a lovely twist of irony, the MOST POINTLESS phrase I have ever heard humans say. They use it to mean, as far as I can work out, either ‘Don’t argue with me’, or, ‘Give me my own way’. It has nothing to do with ‘points’.]”We can’t have her in the sun. She needs to be in the shade.”

Now, here’s a novel idea. If The Baby needs to be in the shade, why doesn’t The Mushroom take her INSIDE? It’s properly shady there. In fact, it’s a house full of shade. Perplexing.

Also perplexing is The Mushroom’s use of the word, ‘Shush.’. It’s an annoying word. It is, I would say, the word she uses the most in conversation with my Dad. For example,

My Dad: “Love, do you want to…

The Mushroom:”Shshhhhhhh!!! The Baby!”


My Dad: “Love, would you like to…

The Mushroom: “Shshhhhhhhshh! Don’t wake The Baby!”


My Dad: “Sweetheart, do you fancy going….

The Mushroom: “Shssssssssssssssshshs! Just SHSHSHSHHHSHHH!”

All of which leads me to ponder: what’s so wrong with waking The Baby? No one shows me this consideration. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’m hoofed off the bed/armchair/jumper when I’m having a snooze. My Dad doesn’t wander around telling everyone to ‘Shush’ so as not to wake the cat.

I’m rambling, slightly, but this is to take my mind off what I saw today. I will be having kitty versions of nightmares about this, I feel, for years to come.

The Hippy and The Cave Troll spent the morning in the pool. Basking on inflatable lilos. That’s fine. I did find it odd, before I saw them in the pool, that my Dad, The Mushroom and The Baby were the opposite side of the garden, but I didn’t think that much of it. Now, I’m a cat. I don’t wear clothes. But my areas are modestly covered by fur. Were they not, I – although I cannot speak for other cats – would happily sport some sort of trouser or pantaloon, simply to prevent my areas from being flashed to all and sundry. I like a bit of dignity. It’s the way I was raised. I was, thus, not expecting as I slinked down the porch to be confronted with the sight of both The Hippy and The Cave Troll afloat, reading their respective books, completely and utterly naked.

I have to admit, I feel a little sullied.

On the plus side, what with That Black Dog sleeping most of the day, my stock of Iams remains intact and I discovered a new game. I run up to the dog, hiss, wake him up and run off. Hysterical. Well, hysterical whilst it’s too hot for him to be arsed to get up and chase me, anyway.


4 Responses to “Let Sleeping Dogs Lie”

  1. annablagona said

    best yet babylumps x

  2. face said

    I just laughed so hard, I spat tea on the screen. Not pretty. I love this blog.

  3. hayley said

    Hahahahhhaaaaa! Oh my god that cup…does the tea come out of a hole in the top of the handle? brilliant, I agree, best yet.
    PS A pool? How fancy. You kept that quiet.

  4. Erica said

    hahaha so funny 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: