Three nights ago, twisted in my lust for Ginger and my head in disarray, I peed on Mook B's bed again and it wasn't discovered until just before everyone retired for the night. Well, I thought, these things happen.
That's not what the Mooks thought, especially not Mook A who decided it was now time to take action. He didn't lose his mind, which is easy to handle 'cause it passes quickly (like a summer storm). He just picked up the little ottoman I sleep on in their office, put it in the kitchen, picked me up, and planted me on the ottoman and said, "Bed!" as in: your bed, not our bed and don't you fucking forget it!
Well, I've been banished to my bed a couple of times and even go there myself from time to time to have a nap or simply to keep tabs on the Mooks when they're both in the office. But this was different.
Mook B went to bed and closed his door. I watched Mook A as he made his night-time tea (like the little old lady he is), then watched him go to the bedroom and...and...and...I can hardly say it: shut the fucking door behind him!!!!
I was alone. On my bed. In the kitchen. It was night. All I had for light was the dim little bulb over the stove.
How could this be? Surely they weren't going to leave me there, alone, in the night, with no warm body to cuddle against, no heartbeat to sing me to sleep, no tootsies to warm my little body, and no fold of a leg to stick my nose into when I felt the chill? Surely they wouldn't do that! But surely they did.
Mook A came out later, after reading and watching a little TV, to brush his teeth. Oh...my...God...The icy cold he brought into the room. He didn't even look at me. He walked right past me to the bathroom, did his business, then walked past me again and went back into the room, closed the door and turned off the light. And then I was alone, with only the far-off snoring of the Mooks to keep me company.
The house creaks...it always creaks...but this time it was something else; something sinister and nasty and just waiting for everyone to sleep to make a meal of a little, white and spotted Jack Russell Terrier. Suddenly I didn't feel so tough and mean. Suddenly I wished I hadn't pissed on the bed and that I was close to one of the Mooks. I'd even sing for that fat motherfucker, Mook A, if he asked me too, just to be able to cuddle up to something warm and safe.
Later, a moth the size of a pterodactyl flew around the stove's light and I knew it would come for me. I knew it. An ant on the kitchen floor cast a shadow 18 feet wide and suddenly it wasn't an ant but something out of some '50s black and white horror film. I curled up on my bed, as little as I could make myself, and buried my nose between my paws and just stared out, waiting for the hideous death that was surely coming for me. I didn't sleep a wink for the entire night. Didn't close my eyes. Just watched the shadows and listened to the wind outside which, once in a while, would fling the screen door of the kitchen open and shut. If I had had piss left in me, it would have come out a little.
Finally...finally!...there were streaks of light outside the windows and the birds began to chirrup and I could breathe a little. I didn't move; the shadows were still too dark in the room and too full of...I don't know what...menace.
Then noise! Blessed noise! Mook B was getting up to pee! God bless his middle-aged bladder! He saw me, seeming to have forgotten I would be there, and smiled. As much as I hate the two of them, that smile just filled me with...safety? Something.
As he puttered about the kitchen making his coffee and preparing my morning meal—which I ate with gusto—I swore to myself, "I'llneverpeeonthebedagainI'llneverpeeonthebedagain..."
The rest of the day the Mooks acted like nothing had happened. They played with me, walked me, and as they watched TV they held me in their arms and I couldn't figure out whether I was really enraged with them or if something vital had happened to change the pecking order in La Maison Mook.
And then, come nighttime, Mook B took me into his room and let me up onto his bed and all was well. Five minutes later he was snoring. Five minutes after that I was thinking, "Jesus-fucking-Christ, I need to pee!"
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