Thundering greyhounds
November 13th 2008 21:01
It is 6.27am and I am woken by two greyhounds chasing each other up and down the wooden floorboards of the passage outside my bedroom. It sounds like thunder.
We have a firm rule in our house. The dogs are allowed to sleep inside as long as they don't wake us early. They have been doing well, but they have relapsed this morning.
There they go again! I was almost back to sleep, and crash!
I leap from the bed, cross the room in giant strides and throw open the door. "No!" I bark.
To any empty passage. Where are they? I march down the passage to the living room. "No, no, no!" Where are they?
Oh, I see them, outside on the porch, trying to look innocent. "No," I yell one last time, throwing my arms around for emphasis. They look bemused, like two foolish dogs trying to convince me they have done no wrong.
I start the trek back to the bedroom, wondering if I can possibly get back to sleep. I pass the big window and it suddenly penetrates my conscious mind that it is raining. And now I see lightning. And this is followed by a long, lazy roll of thunder.
It sounds like two greyhounds running on wooden floorboards.
Sorry Scratchy. Sorry Daisy.
We have a firm rule in our house. The dogs are allowed to sleep inside as long as they don't wake us early. They have been doing well, but they have relapsed this morning.
There they go again! I was almost back to sleep, and crash!
I leap from the bed, cross the room in giant strides and throw open the door. "No!" I bark.
To any empty passage. Where are they? I march down the passage to the living room. "No, no, no!" Where are they?
Oh, I see them, outside on the porch, trying to look innocent. "No," I yell one last time, throwing my arms around for emphasis. They look bemused, like two foolish dogs trying to convince me they have done no wrong.
I start the trek back to the bedroom, wondering if I can possibly get back to sleep. I pass the big window and it suddenly penetrates my conscious mind that it is raining. And now I see lightning. And this is followed by a long, lazy roll of thunder.
It sounds like two greyhounds running on wooden floorboards.
Sorry Scratchy. Sorry Daisy.
We plead innocent
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