Sometimes life is ruff

Sorry for the space in between posts. Bandit has been under the weather and it looks like we'll have to take her into the vet because I can't fix it. But she’s still truckin’ she’s fine. In fact, last night I heard Hawk “meep mew” to her and she jumped down from the window and then all I heard was nails catching on the carpet and Hawk FREAK OUT and run down the hall into the laundry room.  So she’s still got her wits about her to know when he asks her to come play it’s going to end in her getting tackled by him unless she acts first. And we all know how Hawk feels about forward women…

We agreed to dog sit the other weekend which was a trip.  I haven’t had a dog around in years and this wasn’t just any dog. This was a tiny creature created the sonic boom.  He puts the Road Runner to shame.  He is as adorable as a baby unicorn and was born from the waste produced when meth and caffeine are made: Butters.

And oh gosh do we love Butters. He’s a great little dog and he listens well and Abraham fell in love with him and his energy. Hawk on the other hand… Hawk probably knew Butters was in the house, but we kept the dog upstairs and let the cats keep downstairs where we sleep.  Butters is not a fan of solo sleeping apparently, so Jer offered to sleep upstairs on the couch to keep Butters from howling all night long. In a horribly timed decision, Hawk’s curiosity beat his fear into submission and he decided that it would be a good night to venture upstairs and  probably saw something along the lines of this:

Jer said he woke up to Butters flipping out, Hawk tearing down the stairs and a little sleepy eyed Abraham standing in the living room wondering what all the commotion was about.

Hawk didn’t go back upstairs after that. BUT BANDIT DID! Substitute Bandit for Hawk and subtract Abraham and add more frenzy to Butters and that’s the story of that encounter:

Other then the trauma of a dog, Hawk’s been busy enjoying the comforts of beds.  Granted we only have two beds in our house, there is a massive amount of Hawk-hair on both at any given moment.  In fact, there’s so much hair that I brush my bed each night before sleeping in it.  I should name the bed Whiskers.  Or maybe I should just try and brush Hawk… no, you’re right that’s a terrible idea. 

In time, Eve, in time. 

Aside from bed surfing he’s taken to napping and not caring who is in the room or speaking to him.  Jer experienced this the other day: sweet little nappy Hawky-boy who slowly peeked his eyes open to realize THERE’S A HUMAN RIGHT THERE!  And then calmly readjusts and goes back to not really caring.

Oh the indifference of cats :)