Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Intruder in the Night


I awake to my dog, 
     who is practically standing on my face.

     What the . . . ? ? ?

I pry him off of me and,
     like a leech (only, soft and fuzzy; not slimy and wet) . . . 

okay, more like a lint filled dryer sheet, 

                      he is now stuck to my face.

He won't budge.

     What the . . . ? ? ?

Then, I hear it.

Chirp . . .
       chirp . . .

That sound that terrorizes my dog, filling him with fear,
     and sending him into a frenzy, as he frantically searches for a safe place to hide.

Dog:  WHERE CAN I HIDE ? ? ?

Me:  Why does this shit only happen at night ? ? ? 

Chirp . . .
       chirp . . .

I know that I will not get any sleep, until I take care of the problem.

I get out of bed, and try to locate the source. 

As I suspected, it is coming from downstairs, in the front hallway.

I can't reach it, so I grab a chair from the kitchen table.

In the meantime, Charlie is glued to my feet - tail, between his legs; ears, back, 
     looking as if our house is under attack.  

I stand on a chair and grab its hard surface with my hands.  

I turn it one way, I turn it the other - it won't budge.

Chirp . . .

       chirp . . . 

At this point, 
     I am so agitated that I just want to yank the f 'ing thing from the ceiling!

BUT, I keep (patiently) turning it one way, then the other, until FINALLY, 
     the thing comes loose from the ceiling. 

I yank the battery out, set it on the table, 
                                              and give it the old STARE-DOWN.   

At this point, my dog is nowhere to be seen.

I have to send out a search party (me).      

He finally comes crawling out from somewhere, 
     and I convince him (I think) that the coast is clear, the danger is gone, 
            the battle is over, the bad guys have been chased away . . . 
but, more importantly, 


Back to bed, now.  

Please don't stand on my face.