We live in a house with a dog and two cats.
They're always causing trouble. It's a matter of fact.
One of them barks, and two of them cry.
I think it's time to make... animal pie.
Scott started singing this song shortly after we adopted two wild and crazy kittens. This was way back, long before the prospect of babies was even on our radar. He'd sing it to me and I'd squeal "nooooo!!!", and then he'd sing it some more. Eventually the song was forgotten, and the phrase "animal pie" became an idle threat, reserved for moments of frustration when our beloved pets would do something especially awful.
"That's IT!", Scott would shout. "ANIMAL PIE!!!"
We love our pets. We really do, probably more than is normal, but my god, they sure have a knack for pissing us off. It seems like the closer we get to our due date, the crazier they all seem to get. I think Gracie (also affectionately named "Simple Dog") has only just figured out that I'm pregnant. I've heard that dogs often sense pregnancy early on, but Simple Dog has never been all that observant. I don't know what tipped her off, but suddenly she's glued to my side, staring and panting like a derranged stalker.
She's even taken to sleeping on the floor next to my side of the bed. This might sound endearing, but consider that my nightly jaunts to the bathroom are now considerably more tricky. Trying to avoid a black dog sprawled across the floor while you are half asleep and clumsy-pregnant is no picnic. She's also taken to waking up around 5 am and panting in my ear. Charming.
Meanwhile, the cats have been running through the house at night, howling. I don't know what is up with that. They don't seem distressed. It's more like a cat party that starts around midnight, just when we would be finding our way into a deep, restful sleep. The only stop their rampage when I get up to use the bathroom. This is their opportunity to petition for a middle of the night snack, so as I pee, they hammer on the bathroom door, bawling. I do my best to ignore them, which only inspires extra fury later on.
As dawn approaches, Mr. Pickles, the cutest and naughtiest of our pets, finds objects in the bedroom to knock onto the floor. If this doesn't get our attention, Ziggy, his fudgy-pudgy partner in crime starts going to town on the leather loveseat in the living room. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. If all esle fails, Mr. Pickles hops into bed and starts pulling hair with his teeth. They are really serious about their breakfast.
On Sunday I spent the day in full-on relaxation mode. We started things off by going out to breakfast, then made our way to Deep Eddy for some sunshine and swimming. Afterwards we hit up a juice bar for smoothies, then headed home to share an impromptu taco dinner with some friends. After tacos, I was in the mood for dessert, so I threw together an apple and blueberry crumble. We all sat on the deck, lounging the rest of the evening away. When the sun started to set, everybody went home, and Scott and I spent our last hour before bed rotting our minds with the latest episode of Once Upon a Time.
I was all set to sleep like the dead. My body was wiped out, and my brain was at peace. This was going to be a sleep for the record books. Or so I thought...
After a night full of pet-related and bladder-related interruptions, I woke up this morning with a panting dog mouth in my ear, and one thought on my mind, ANIMAL PIE.
On a cuter note, the kitties are very curious about the nursery. Whenever I go in there, they follow, cautious but enthralled by everything in the room. They sniff each bit of baby gear carefully, then crawl under, through, and into everything they can. Gracie comes in too, but I usually kick her out, because the room only seems to make her extra panty. Oh animals, you need to get over it, and quick!
