Do these things happen to other people?

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Okay, I promised I would share this story and I've been trying to get it done but my mental keyboard keeps jamming and.... oh hell! I just hope this is semi-understandable. Also note the battle I fought with the blogspot spacing demon. Yeah. I lost.


A few weeks back I woke briefly at too-dark o'clock thinking that I heard a weird noise coming from the other end of the house. If you know much about me, you know that since last November everything sounds bit odd to me. And if you know anything at all about me, you know that I am a VERY sound sleeper.

~~I hate to brag but sleeping really IS what I do best.~~

So the idea that a sound had the power to wake me should have set off some major alarms in the self-preservation part of my brain.

~~Like 'Wake up dummy so you live to sleep another night!'~~

You'd think.


But, you'd be wrong.

MY brilliant response was to assume it was Homer kicking up some kind of ruckus during one of his middle-of-the-night feeding frenzies.


Seriously, I consciously chose to NOT reach out and confirm that the spot next to me was, indeed, empty. My reasoning ran along the lines that if I were to encounter a warm body I would either have to worry about what the noise had been, or worry about who it was in bed with me.

~~Granted, that last option could have tilted more toward excitement than worry but either way, I knew it would mean I'd be losing some sleep.~~

So I rolled over on my good ear and got back on the train to Snoozeville.


Then... big derailment as I am jolted awake by bright light and foot poking.


"Jane!"
poke, poke
"Ja-ane!"
poke

~~It's amazing how many things can whiz through your sleep-befuddled brain when you are startled awake. Like OMG, I overslept! that stupid alarm! I told you it was broken, wow it's dark out, did the sun burn out? is it a fire?! OMG, am I wearing good underwear? where are the dog, the cats, the kids? why is he whispering? a burglar! OMG, if some slimy thief touches grandma's silver lutefisk spoon I will personally see that he has the biggest, baddest boyfriend in the entire prison!~~

But it sounds like Homer is saying "Jane! Jane! I've got a good one for you!"

~~Good frickin grief, drunk at 4:30 in the morning? He seriously did NOT wake me up to tell me a joke. WHAT is he saying???? something's in the dining room....????~~

"A what?"


"mruffdll"



"Huh?"


"uritull"

~~FYI - my hearing gets no better when I'm stressed.

Or awakened prematurely.~~

"A.... a pit bull?!?!"

"YES!"

~~I'm still suspicious that he's under the influence of something.~~

"Reee-leee?"

~~ Sure thing honey, where's Ashton Kutcher?~~

"YE-US!!!"

~~And it was so cute because he was standing at the foot of the bed - cleverly out of striking distance - sounding like a little kid reporting a boogy man under his bed.~~

But then he starts fleshing out his story with how he thought he heard PepperAnn whining (she doesn't whine, EVER.) so he bravely/foolishly went to see what was wrong with our precious princess when all of a sudden a growling pitbull charged at him from under the dining room table! Yeah. Pit bull. In the dining room. That's what he said. And strangely, I believed him.

AACK!!!

~~ I won't be getting back to sleep, will I?~~

Then I'm all freaking out about the safety of our dog and our slutty cats that tend to stay out all night and our daughters even though the daughters are 1000 miles away....

~~Let me tell you right now that it is IMPERATIVE that Homer and I never become part of any emergency response effort. Ever. We are not resourceful. We are not quick thinkers even when held hostage in our own bedroom without a phone or a weapon more deadly than a nail scissors or even a steak laced with pitbull tranquilizer at our disposal.
Dammit! Who's turn was it to thaw the steak?!?!~~

Homer keeps mumbling that he needs his PANTS! which are in his closet ACROSS THE HALL! which would necessitate OPENING! the bedroom DOOR! and giving that PITBULL direct access to OUR THROATS!

~~Well, hold on a sec honey, let me baste myself in gravy so I go quickly.~~

At some point we did surmise that the marauder was probably one of the pit bulls from across the street and that it must have jumped our fence and come in through the dog door. Or maybe we figured that out much later. It's kind of a blur but we did calm down enough to notice that PepperAnn was safely bedded down in the corner of our room. Homer couldn't resist shooting her a scornful look and belittling her watchdog abilities to which I pointed out that P.A. is a herding dog whose contract merely states that the herd be kept together. There is nothing in there about offering herself up as a midnight snack.
Anyways, isn't it the job of the MAN of the house to sleep with a baseball bat next to his bed lest treachery threaten his family in the wee hours? I think that's how it was in Father Knows Best.

~~One of those plaid robes would have solved his pants problem as well.~~

Butennyway, now I am pissed because it's bad enough we have to worry about those nasty dogs getting OUT and terrorizing the neighborhood, now they've gotten IN, so after Homer reports that the dog has gone downstairs, I grab a phone and call 911.

I know.
You're thinking that might be a tad excessive, but let's just say that our local boys in blue are not overworked and I'm pretty sure they won't have to drop a murder investigation to come running.

~~Okay, between the time I wrote that and today, our fine city did actually have it's first homicide. I feel like a karmic accessory to murder!~~

But I'm talking to the 911 operator and she's asking if the dog is vicious and I'm telling her that IT GROWLED! and it has a reputation for KILLING CATS! And it is IN MY HOUSE! so I did NOT ask about its personal feelings towards us.

I hang up and the pit bull, which must have found his way back to the dog door downstairs, is outside and back over the fence and when the police show up LESS than a minute later (what'd I say?) that dog and it's accomplice, who had been posted on our front lawn, are nowhere to be found.

Seriously, they totally vanished.

The cops nosed around with their flashlights and rang the doorbell at the pitbull residence, but the dogs were gone and so was the owner so they eventually went back to their donuts and I headed back to bed.

Homer was a bit more wound up and after he barricaded the dog door and located ONE of the slutty cats, he suddenly came running into the house yelling that the dog was back.

In the front yard.

Growling at him.

Whatever.

~~It's not in my house and I'm still hoping for some more sleep....~~

But by then the 'hood was coming to life and the dog chased a jogger and a guy walking his weiner dog and it all turned into a crazy circus of law enforcement and animal control people and regular people chasing after these two very fast dogs who actually jumped over EIGHT FOOT FENCES, entered another home through the dog door, jumped on the counter and pooped on the carpet before getting caught.... SIX hours later.

Oh but no worries, their owner finally came home late in the afternoon and swiftly bailed them out of dog jail.

But that's all a whole 'nother story.

~~And no, I did not get back to sleep.~~