I Quit

The cats CATS CATS CATS were determined to keep me up most of the night.  The raccoons are most decidedly out of hibernation and they are hungry.  Hungry for the cat chow stashed in our pantry.  The cat door is their door, as far as they are concerned anyway, and in they come after midnight.  I tried locking up the cat chow, thinking maybe they would come, find nothing, and go.  But no not to be.  Through the pantry shelves they went instead, in haste and anger it would seem from the cornmeal I found strewn across the floor.

So I've been shutting the cat door at night.  Leaving Katy in and Teddy out.  No good for either.  She wants out at 2:00 and he wants in at 4:00 so I've been working the night shift.  I quit this morning.  Handed in my resignation. NO MORE NIGHT SHIFTS scrawled across a torn piece of cornmeal bagging.

What now?  I must deter the raccoons.  Maybe one of those gigantic water guns filled with soapy water.  Maybe late night poetry slams.  Maybe line dancing.  Oh how I would like to dance with one of those raccoons.  How I would sling him around, sweep him off his dainty little feet.  Step on those dainty little toes.  Clutch his arm maybe a little too tightly for his liking.  Nibble on his nose.  Pull his whiskers. The big fat tail seems an ideal hold for a true rock around the clock.  Likes the late hours, does he?  We''ll see about that.