Maybe Pets Are Like Kids After All
©Lisa Barker

Now that the kids are back in school, I thought I’d have a little more time to myself. It’s not that I had anything planned. I’m not really particular about ‘me time’. I just like to be able to eat my breakfast without shouting through mouthfuls.

I like to take a shower without somebody banging on the door every thirty seconds to tattletale. You get the point.

Well, the pets must have sensed my anticipation. (You may recall that we have nine cats and a dog that thinks he’s a cat.) Now that the kids are back in school, the pets have started acting up.

It began this morning with the girls (the three biggest troublemakers) playing hide-and-seek behind the dryer. This game involves ripping out the dryer vent...something I never discover until I turn the dryer on and get hit in the face with a blast of dust.

So while I am trying to wedge myself behind the machine to readjust the tubing, they sneak off to the kitchen. I can tell they are up to no good because I hear cabinets opening and closing and one of the adult cats hissing.

I run for the kitchen hollering out names. They come running at me frantically, scramble around me and tear around the living room, over the sofas and behind the desk and recliner.

“Okay, out you all go!” So far my day hasn’t been any different than it’s been all summer with the five kids underfoot.

That’s when I hear tippy-toeing behind me. The dog that is supposed to be lounging on the hassock is now trying to sneak past me to his bed and fake a nap before I catch him.

I can’t stand when kids and pets sneak. It’s such a dead give away, too. If he’d just walk normally, I wouldn’t have even thought twice about him strolling around the house, but there he is sneaking and this means one thing. It’s potty time and he doesn’t want to go outside because it’s too cold.

Boohoo. Number four is out the door. Only six more to go.

The older cats are wiser. Moocher, Momma Cat, Phoebe and Serera know that the best cat is a sleeping cat.
They claim sunspots and sack out. The boys saunter outside to amuse themselves with grasshoppers – a choice they make to avoid suffering the indignity of being tossed out. One, two, three, four...nine, ten.
That’s everybody.

At last, I can sit down with the paper and read my favorite parenting humor column. Suddenly, the door bursts open and three kids pile into the house. Where did the time go?

“You’re home already?!”

I’ve got to get a job.