Pickles & Dimes

Last night I woke up both myself and Jason by rubbing Jason’s head. “What are you doing?” he whispered to me. “Oh. Sorry,” I say, disoriented. “I think I thought your head was Shorty’s belly.”

It’s Jason’s turn to let Shorty out in the morning. I hear him open the kennel and whisper to Shorty, who sounds as if he is not moving, not anytime soon. Jason leaves the room to refill the water bowl, Sunny yowling for food at his feet. I finally hear Shorty’s collar jangle as he shakes off sleep and comes out of the kennel to s t r e t c h. I hear him padding down the hallway as he comes around the corner to sit next to the bed and say good morning to me.

I ask, “How did you sleep, buddy?” just like I do every other morning when I’m not on a.m. pee patrol. He waits until I get closer and then licks my forehead before trotting obediently back to Jason to go outside.

While they’re out, I feed the cats, mocking Sunny’s exaggerated hunger and obnoxiously loud “MEYOW” that threatens to puncture my eardrums.

It starts raining hard on the drive in to work and dozens of brake lights turn red simultaneously when the drivers become alarmed by moisture on their windshields. God, that first snowfall is going to suck.

Work is slow. Like, really slow. I think something’s wrong with my computer clock before I realize, nope, I really have only been here for 90 minutes.

I brought my lunch, but find out it’s chicken dumpling soup day at my favorite deli. I walk in the back entrance to find the resident cat. It’s solid black, with crossed eyes. I pet it until it purrs and tickle its back paws. It takes a swipe at me – it still has its claws.

I’ve been slow all morning but during lunch I get a frantic phone call from an account manager. They have a presentation in less than an hour and need a 40-page document edited before then.

I have a headache.

I still have fours hours left of work.

I can’t wait to drive home, to have two starving cats greet me at the door, to let Shorty out to run and run and run in the yard, to greet Jason when he gets home, to cook a pizza for dinner, to cuddle on the couch with a blanket watching the Twins take on the hated White Sox, to just chill.

And to have a night of sleep where I’m not mistaking my husband’s head for a pet’s belly.