Timmy Better Have Fallen In A Well......

Ahhh relaxation!

There are minimal advantages to living the life of a spinster.  People look at you and wonder what is wrong with you that you can not inspire others to love you.   You are constantly asked-  "Do you have a boyfriend?  Girlfriend??.... Hell any kind of friend????"  Which is invariably followed by the dreaded "Why not?"  

Making a choice to get a pet or two, or maybe more than two, can have a drastic effect on how others view you....."Hmmm so she is one of "those".... a crazy insert label of choice lady.  That explains the lack of a significant other!  Who would want to be saddled with that hot mess!".  Last but not least, there is no dual income and no one to blame when the roll of toilet paper doesn't get changed once it runs out.

In my opinion one of the main advantages of spinsterhood is sleep.  Glorious, glorious sleep!  If I want to take a nap in a sunbeam in the middle of the afternoon or say 30 minutes after waking..... I can!  If I want to sleep in and spend all day in my jammies... I can!    There is no one else around to throw a quizzical glance at my choices or to disturb me.  It can be a blissful existence.  Unless, of course, you make the decision to introduce a pet into your life.  

Pets don't automatically equate to sleep intrusion and major life-style cramping.... it all depends on your choice in pet.   Say if you chose a fish or a bearded dragon to fulfill your need for a company.  Not much impact on the wake-sleep cycle of your choice.

Hamster?

Well be prepared to be up all night, especially if yours owns a squeaky wheel.

Cats or dogs?

I can attest to this one.  Heed my warning.  There will be days where you will question the saneness of your choice(s), especially in the begin.  But these days will be followed by days where you can not believe you even own pets, especially once they reach the senior stage and they enjoy sleeping-in more than you.   

That is unless you have a Bill!

Mild mannered cat or evil Mastermind?

Bill is friend to all,  but is chalk full of quirks.  The most annoying quirk is his propensity for announcing that he has entered the room or has decided to join you on the bed.  Instead of a drum roll, he relies on a "Merow!!!!!" to alert you to his presence.  Not an issue when it is noon, but definitely not so delightful at 3 am.  I have lived with this irksome habit for 11 years and for the most part have become accustomed to it.  But on my "cranky-pants days" it drives me around the bend.

The other night after a series of unfortunate circumstances (to be blogged about later) I found myself awake and very grumpy at 4 am.  I did what any reasonable person would do..... I ranted and banished the furry herd from the bedroom.  This plan would have worked out well...... if there was not a Bill.  Bill decided he needed to "check-in" on me and my mental health.  

So very, very thoughtful of him! But not appreciated.

He kept coming to the door and asking how I was doing every 30 minutes.  Yup just long enough for me to relax and start falling asleep but not long enough to be fully oblivious to his "caring" ways.

The first time it happened I thought it was a one off.  The second time I was more than a little pissed but still optimistic.  The third time I wanted to scream but realised I would only reinforce the pattern and will have taught him that torturing me for an hour and a half gets results, so I decided to internalize my frustration and not respond.

Dear reader, what occurred after that was a Mexican stand-off.  With Bill upping the ante and alternating his "checking-in" pattern from 30 minutes to 5 minutes to 15 minutes to every 2 minutes.  

What was a I doing???? 

It fluctuated between fantasizing about killing him, trying to think of what I had close at hand that I could throw at the door, but not dint the door nor break the object that I threw and writing 4  blog entries in my head.

It was a stubborn throw down and I was prepared to win.  Unfortunately so was Bill.

I don't know how long it went on, as I refused to look at the clock, but it was around the time the sun appeared in the window that I started to wonder if he was trying to tell me something in the grand fashion of Lassie...... Maybe one of the furry herd had a heart attack!  Maybe someone was breaking into the vehicle outside!!  Maybe the pipes brust and the basement was flooding!!!  Maybe there was a fire and all the smoke alarms were malfunctioning!!!!!!!!!!  

This pondering birthed this blog and the title.  I started hoping that something was really wrong.  If there was something wrong Bill would be a hero...... not a whiner.  I could quit being mad at him and would be proud to be sharing my living space with him.  I started fantasizing about what I would say in my interview with the local press, as you know they would want to hear this fantastic story of heroism!
It went something like this....

"It was fate that brought this little critter into my life.... I saved his life and here he is saving mine.  He is the treasure of the North!  I am so very, very fortunate that he is in my life!"  

Now the only thing that remained was to extricate myself from the room, without letting Bill win the showdown, so I could bare witness to his heroic efforts.  I patiently waited until there was a lull in the meowing and made my appearance.  It was pretty clear by the time that I made my way to the main floor that there was no emergency.  Drat!  He is just a periodic whiner.

Lesson learned-  Bill is not Lassie; he is just a cat who likes to talk!