It's 9AM

Tell Me What You Really Think

Chris Lowry

Oct 21, 2024

What do you think of this?

I blame the dog.

It’s not his fault though.

He’s twenty something pounds of pure floppy terror.

I’m told he’s a Shitz-su.

Some nights he acts like a poo head.

You may remember the Opossum assault of Aug/September.

Their midnight forays into the neighbors outdoor cat food bowl required a sortie across the fence top.

Gus mustered his ferocity and repealed the attack.

Attacks.

We are safe from Possums. Though George Jones can still sing on the airwaves, so we are still at auditory risk.

The rain came last night.

It swooped in like an attacking opossum and ushered in colder weather for the annual night of sweet treat begging.

As I opened the door this morning to provide for a pre-dawn constitutional and ablations, Gus stepped out onto the patio and into cold raindrops.

Before I could even shut the door, he scooted back in and gave me a look.

Like it was my fault.

How could I betray his loyalty, his constant overnight vigil to protect me as I slept, his overall floppiness to allow it to rain upon his furry person?!?

Either that, or it’s fonking cold, do I get a treat for going outside?

Probably the latter.

He’ll do pretty much anything for a Scooby snack.

I don’t blame him. I’m a sucker for a treat too.

There’s not much I wouldn’t do for one.

The point is, I’m safe from possums and cold fronts and all burglars and bad guys who would try to assault our battery.

Gus assumes that if you’ve made it over the threshold, you are a welcome friend and boon companion. Therefore, you must be showered with puppy kisses and by the way, did you bring bacon?

With that home protection system, I have nothing to fear.

Not even fear itself.

Not that I fear anyone breaking in. It happened to me once.

I was in college, sophomore year, and got an apartment with my friend Keith across the street from campus.

It was on the bottom floor in a complex filled with other college students who normally only stayed for a year.

On a night much like this one, when the cool air came in, Keith and I agreed to kill the A/C and sleep with the windows open.

My bed was under the window and it felt good to curl up under the covers, snug and cozy while the cool breeze drifted through.

Until around two am when someone pushed aside the blinds and tried to climb in bed with me.

I could smell the hooch, and when he whispered “Christy,” it was so close to my name that I almost panicked.

There was cussing on both of our parts, but no struggle. He took a header through the window and I followed with a rebel yell and scream.

I chased him through the complex, but I was barefoot and he had on shoes.

I lost him in the shadows of the parking lot and hustled back home. I had to climb back in my window because the front door was locked and I didn’t sleep with a key.

Keith was in the doorway and hit the lights when I came through and told him what happened.

“If you chased me like that, I’d outrun you too,” he told me.

Did I mention I sleep a la natural?

Sometimes I wear a watch.

If a naked man ran after you in the middle of the night, wouldn’t you run faster too?!

My burglar thought he was going to get a treat from the girl who lived in the apartment the year before. I tricked him though.

He never came back.

I still sleep in my birthday suit.

It’s my anti-break in home protection armor.

Between that and the dog, we’re probably safe.

Or streaking.