|Manny, chillin' in the recycle bin|
Tuesday night, I stood next to The Hubby in the kitchen, gave him a peck on the cheek, and advised him that I was going outside to check on The 'O' Cats.
It's now pretty dark outside at 9:00 pm. Sweetie and Paddy O'Malley ran up to join me, and got some pets and lovin' and some kibble. I freshened their water bowl, bid them goodnight, and walked back to the front door.
The door was locked.
I rang the doorbell.
I knocked on the door.
I rang the doorbell some more.
I knocked louder.
No movement from inside the house.
I could see Manny sitting in the recycle bin, and he watched me casually.
He wouldn't open the door for me.
I rang the doorbell more...ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong...
I knocked on the wall...bam bam bam bam bam
Finally, The Hubby looked through the glass on the front door, saw me, and unlocked it.
"What the hey!?!" I said. He grumbled something about thinking I was upstairs.
*head shake* WHAT?
Manny didn't move a whisker, so I snapped photos of him. Chili Bruce was looking out another window the whole time, watching for critters that use our driveway as a path. Angel, upstairs, was contentedly sprawled on her chair.
This time, I was sorta mad. I had TOLD HIM. He apologized. I wasn't much mollified.
Today, I am thankful that I got back inside, and that it wasn't freezing cold like the last time (see blog post at the top.)
From now on, I carry my keys with me, no matter where I roam!
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