My Morning

This morning, Rippy was all: "I got to go outside NOW! And if you don't let me out right this minute, I will pee on the couch. PUHLEEEZ open the door!" So I did.

But did he pee? No. He took three steps out onto the patio then turned and stared at me while barking from the other side of the sliding glass door. So then I let him back in.

And as he came in, Deuce ran out.

Then did the exact same thing, staring and barking. So I open the door to make him come back inside. And as I am mere inches from sliding the door shut, Gertrude runs out. And up a tree.
And refuses to come to me. (By they way, did I mention that I'm barefoot? Chasing the cat through briars?) Pretty much I would have done anything she wanted in order to get her down. Including sacrificing a fuzzy dog for her.

Finally, I sit down on the ice chest and start to tear up as my feet are prickly, I'm sweating from the humidity and about to be late for work. Just as the tears come, Gertrude decides to show me some mercy. She climbs down from her perch and joins me on the deck. Where she kisses and purrs. And as we taking a moment, making up, Gertie and I both turn to watch Ripken and Deuce wrestle violently into the dining room table, nearly pulling the table and centerpiece off,

Gert meows something along the lines of: "Sorry, dude. Its just that sometimes I need a break from the loony bin."

And the saddest part of all this? I don't even blame her one bit. Sometimes those two make me want to run out into the backyard and climb a tree too.