Dear Humans,

Here is, at last, my Saturday update.  It was Day 91 of my incarceration, with 14 sleeps to go before my Parole Hearing.

As we left yesterday's cliffhanger, The Warden had brought me out for a pee and a poop at 1am, hoping it would let her have a Saturday sleep-in past 6am.

Mwaaahaaaahaaahaaahaaaaaaaaaa!!!!

5am, SUCKERS!!  Siiiiiiinnnggiiiiiiiiinnnggg the ssssooooooonnnnnnnngggggggg of my peeeeeeeeeeoplllllllllle!

Key word being PEEEEEEEEEEEEple.  Yup, another Great Lake, courtesy of Moi.  Prednisone is helping add to my superpowers.

In order to avoid being murdered shortly before my parole (even though I'M the one with the shiv), I dutifully went back to bed at 5:30, and Mom sort of got her sleep in.

Even better, after she woke up and went to brush her teeth, that popcorn kernel that has been lodged behind her wisdom (don't get me started) tooth for a few weeks was finally convinced to fly off and be free.  She said the release felt practically orgasmic (I wouldn't remember, I haven't been able to lick myself for 91 days, people), and that she was sure that's how it will feel for me on Monday, but multiplied by 80 (or 560 in dog math), when all my staples come out.

I dunno, I think I'll wait and see…

The Stinky Brother was stuck home with me today, and we tried to play with our toys together.  What I really wanted was to chase him when he chased the cats, but Mom started freaking out about staples again.  I don't know what her problem is – they survived my kangaroo jumping for Ali just fine, what's the big deal about chasing???

Mom says she can't handle another two weeks of the shiv, and I'd better shape up.

Humph.

Other than the occasional bursts of Jasper-chasing energy, I was still spending much of my time in my bed on the heated floor of the sunroom.  I don't know why I haven't paid much attention to that bed before, it's really quite toasty and comfy.

Mom was spending a lot of time up in her studio, too, so Jasper and I got to go out on the balcony a few times.  I also had a few longer tours of the yard, but what I REALLY wanted was a walk out the front.  Every time she passed the front door, I'd look eager and cute and stare at my harness, so she'd get the damned hint.

She said she got the hint, but it's still not happening, because salt and staples give her the squirmiewormies – also my harness wraps under my chest, so the thought of it adding to the squirmiewormies makes her shudder and look like she's going to puke.  Which, in my mind, is a good thing, because who doesn't like to eat a little pre-digested food every once in a while, amirite???

So in the evening, Mom was doing laundry (because her idea of excitement on a Saturday night seems to have changed with age), and I tried to jump up on the bed, but my stupid fucking halo got caught on the footboard, and I looked like an idiot.  Mom was not very sympathetic, and might have uttered an "I told you so".  Need I remind you, she is not my real mother.  Has she learned NOTHING from her course on intergenerational trauma?!?!?  I'M SUPPOSED TO BE NURTURED, NOT LAUGHED AT.  I shall be writing her instructor.

She managed to make it through that episode she'd been trying to watch for over a week, and only had to rewind once after dozing off a bit.  She got so cocky about her success, that she tried to watch a shorter episode of another TV show, but fell asleep on the couch about 70 minutes into This Hour Has 154 Minutes (wow, I love dog math!).

Which means... my before-bed venture to the great outdoors occurred at 3:30am, once she could feel her neck again and get off the couch.

My earlier incident with the halo and the corner of the bed, however, remained in my head.  I whined to go up on the bed, then barked when the whining didn't miraculously teleport me up.  Mom came over to help lift me, but I was having none of that – I backed up far away and refused to let her.  Then I came back to whine and bark some more.  She tried to lift me, but I backed up.  DOES SHE NOT UNDERSTAND CONSENT?!?  I wanted to do it independently.

FINALLY, she got the hint, and took off my halo, so I could jump up on the bed all by myself.  She made me put it back on once I was up, though.

And so, at 3:45am, we all managed to tuck into bed (minus the Catpulets, because then we'd NEVER get any sleep!).

Does this mean she got a Sunday sleep-in?  Dun-dun-duunnnnnnn – Tune in to the Sunday edition of Macie's Tails of Misery, and find out.

Love and schlurps and staples and shivs,
Macie

Today's photo is of the cats in their cat tree, because Mom DIDN'T TAKE ANY PHOTOS OF ME today!!!