It was nearly midnight when you woke me up by tearing through my bedroom at breakneck speed attempting to catch the cat. Obviously the cat had a spot that NEEDED licking and this had secured your top priority. Clearly my sleep and wellbeing ranked far lower, somewhere before licking your butt, but after food, water, squirrels, and terrorizing.
I got out of my comfy spot, chastised you, and called the cat. The cat followed me out to the hall and lead my down the stairs. You – apparently not deterred at all from your objective – blasted down the stairs after the cat…and through me.
At the top of the stairs you took out my legs and ran right under me to get to the cat. I landed squarely on my left butt cheek and left calf and bumped down the stairs, clawing for purchase.
You are a jerk, dog. You didn’t even stop running to check on me. Jerk.
So, today I sit at my desk with an ice pack under my butt and my calf with a walnut-sized lump in it.
I hope the cat scratches you on the nose.
…who am I kidding? That’ll never happen; that stupid cat loves you. It was probably his plan in the first place…