This morning when I wake up, I hear no pitter-patter of little feet stampeding through the house. No dishes being knocked off the counter. No newpapers rustling on the coffee table. No crunching of food. No digging in the litterbox.
I think, "Oh, my goodness there must be a carbon monoxide leak in my house, or they've found a torn window screen and escaped. Oh, no!"
Panicked, I jump out of bed. I look under it, nothing. In the closet, nothing. Kitchen cupboards and drawers, nothing. Behind the shower curtain, nothing. I'm freaking out at this point.
But as I walk into the living room, I can see one fuzzy black tail through the doorway leading into the dining room. Kipper. Oh, thank goodness at least HE knows better than to leave me.
I round the corner and suddenly see all eight of them, and the dog, crowded around the fish tank I set up last night. 9 pairs of eyes glance quickly at me, then back to the tank in fascination.
3 hours later, not a single one of them has moved. I could get used to the silence.
I think, "Oh, my goodness there must be a carbon monoxide leak in my house, or they've found a torn window screen and escaped. Oh, no!"
Panicked, I jump out of bed. I look under it, nothing. In the closet, nothing. Kitchen cupboards and drawers, nothing. Behind the shower curtain, nothing. I'm freaking out at this point.
But as I walk into the living room, I can see one fuzzy black tail through the doorway leading into the dining room. Kipper. Oh, thank goodness at least HE knows better than to leave me.
I round the corner and suddenly see all eight of them, and the dog, crowded around the fish tank I set up last night. 9 pairs of eyes glance quickly at me, then back to the tank in fascination.
3 hours later, not a single one of them has moved. I could get used to the silence.