Tempest, Trumpet, Battlefield

These are the words I repeated to myself as I awoke this morning. What do they mean? Why did I “need” to think them over and over? Maybe it was me trying to figure out the sounds that were waking me up.

As loud as it seemed, it was none of these things. It was Isabelle picking at the carpet on the bedroom door. “Mowww, mowwww,” pickpickpickpickpickpickpick.

Eric put a square of remnant carpet on the door to try to muffle the scratching sounds and stop the cats’ picking underneath the door. It only worked to a degree. Now, they scratch on the carpet and meow- at 7:30am on a holiday. It’s not time to get up, kitties! Let me sleep!!! Like you get to, all day.


About catfest

I adore cats. I like most animals, really, but I've always had cats in my life. They've been my friends, my brothers and sisters and now, my kids. Other than squealing about the adorability of my sweet, sweet children, I like to write (type), edit, paint and watch tv and movies with my awesome husband. I hope you like my 'blog! Smileys!
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