So I'm lying in bed (downstairs) of course because DH and I don't sleep in the same room anymore. Oh not because we fight or anything... don't worry. Apparently I snore loud enough to wake people in the next province... though I'm still waiting for proof of this.

Pickle boy is lying next to me sleeping soundly. He had a bad dream and needed a snuggle to feel safe... ahhh to be three. When all of a sudden

*scratch...scratch...scratch*

WTF?

I pop an eye open. When did the damn cat get out?

Annoyed I sit up in the pull out queen sofa bed. Thomas is lying at my feet snoring which is what I think DH is actually hearing at night and not me though I go along with the fact he thinks it's me that snores.

Where is Eddie? And who left the tap running? I hear the racing thump thump thump across the floor upstairs.

Eddie is upstairs chasing something, probably his shadow. I know this because I hear the thud of the shampoo. He often jumps in tub, knocking all the hair products over with a loud bang.

*scratch scratch scratch*

This time the noise is followed by the smallest and softest girlie meow I think I've ever heard and immediately Thomas jumps off the bed from my feet and to the back door.

It's so nice I raised such a polite kitty as he goes to greet the bothersome creature seeking shelter. And I realize it's not a faucet I'm hearing but the rain coming down in droves outside.

Coastal weather sucks!

So much for the kids playing outside tomorrow, dammit!

Pushing back the curtains and Thomas. He announces his displeasure at me shooing him aside with a hiss. Fuck you too, I think. I see a black n white female (kitten) staring at me, paws up on the glass with a look that only be described as a person caught in an avalanche with no shovel to help dig themselves out.j

It's my next door neighbors cat. She never goes outside.

Corey comes downstairs to see what all the fuss is. His eyes sleepy as it's only five in the morning and dawn is just barely breaking. Thomas immediatly pleads with him (boy to boy) to open the door for the new female. DH doesn't move.

"She'll go away." He tells me when I explain that she's been prancing around outside, clawing the screen, pressing her face against the glass. It's pathetic and sad. DH doesn't care. He bangs on the window, like that is going to make her wander back out into the trenches!

She's female... I think not.

DH picks the sir of fur up into his arm, Thomas and tells me he will take the brat upstairs so he won't be bothered by the friendly morning visitor and to go back to sleep and leave her outside. I'm now plotting ways to ruin his morning coffee for being such a heartless toad.

Perhaps because I'm a cat owner myself. I love cats and I can't with good conscious allow this young pretty to wail outside in the storm of the century that is howling and blowing all the crap in my backyard all around.

mental note: must clean yard.

I open the door.

"Mama what u doing? You going to spank the kitty?" Pickle boy says half asleep.

Yes. Mama is going to beat the kitty. First with a broom and then I thought I'd throw rocks at her to make her understand the rudeness of waking people from their sleep. I'm not your father!

I tell him it's okay and to go back to sleep.

The moment the door opens she jumps into my arms. Great! Now I'm soaked, covered in fur and dander. Wet sandpaper licks my chin and her eyes tell me how grateful she is at having been rescued. At least I think she is grateful. It's hard to tell with the sharpies (claws) glued like thorn into my left boob as she hangs onto me for dear life.

"Alright, you're safe." I cradle her against me, grabbing my crackberry.

It rings with no answer. A foul bit of english escapes me. I try again. Again no answer. My annoyance now building. WTF do I do now?

I can't keep little miss with me, she's not fixed. And there is no way I'm going to watch Thomas and Eddie take pleasures with a queen in the house. EWWWWW. I instead open the front door and step outside in my pj's, tip toe barefoot the two doors down to where the young furry resident lives and I bang on the door.

I know my friend Jen is most likely buried up to her eyeballs in pillows and warmth, since she works in the morning and has two kids to get up and out the door early with no help from a significant other.

God I'm glad I'm married.

I curse emphatically under my breath swearing that if she doesn't open the damn door on the tenth knock the damn cat is going through the mail slot! But to my surprise the door opens and Jen stares at me as sleepy as a baby in a cradle.

"What is it? What is wrong?" Her voice holds a note of concern but more annoyance. Ahhh did I wake you? Good! My mean streak thinks.

What's wrong? What's wrong is your damn cat was out in the damn rain and gave me a five o'clock wake up from dream land that's what is wrong. Now take your nail digging miss priss into your own house and don't call me tomorrow!

Of course I did not speak my brain.

I learned a long time ago never, especially when tired, allow the men in my head to have a go at the mic when in the state of strangling those who wake me.

"Here I have something that belongs to you."

Horror strikes Jen face and the apologies come flying.

"I'm so sorry about this," she says for the tenth time but whose counting?

Hey, no problem. I'm rescuing the dog out of the dumpster from unit 18 and the bird belonging to unit 6 stuck up the tube slide at the park next. It's no skin off my back!

The joys of friendship with furry animals. It could have been worse. She could've owned a horse.