Monday, December 7, 2015

Sleeping Bear

Whatever Zoey did to me in my sleep, it got her a loud "bad girl!" and tossed onto the floor. This has been a good technique in my life, having siblings and roommates. You poke the sleeping grisly bear, it lets out a booming, angry growl, and you have immediate second thoughts about poking it more.

Not Zoey. She must've heard something or had a nightmare, because the millisecond she hit the floor, she jumped right back on the bed and curled up to me. I was awake by this time and realized what was going on: she was scared and probably caught my eyeball or something pawing at me to wake me up, invoking the angry bear response.

She's been trying to paw at my face since a few weeks after she was born. Shortly after that, someone remarked that she thought I was her pet. Ever since then, I've been trying to translate what she's trying to tell me, like "Pet, gimme some pancakes" or "Pet, open your jacket so I can crawl in."

Last night was "Pet, wake up! The end is nigh, pet! Use your thumbs and get us out of here!"
She's not scared of the sleeping bear.

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