Mocha Actually Is A Bird Dog

Babs is here for her first visit to the new house and Buds and I have been sleeping in the attic on the nice comfy cozy king-sized bed we have up there. (It’s also comfy cozy and bat- and squirrel-free thanks to a wildlife mitigation company.)

It’s been in the low 40’s up there, which is very comfortable for sleeping under a thick duvet, snuggled up to my furnace of a spouse. I did sleep in a stocking hat last night, but I just thought about Almanzo Wilder in Farmer Boy climbing the stairs into the freezing cold of his bedroom in his night cap and I pulled my stocking hat a little lower and settled in to sleep.

Mocha had been sleeping up there with us, on the bed, so she could provide extra warmth, too. Last night she decided that was not good enough.

Three times she jumped up on the bed with us, tried to get a spot in between us, and then came to stand on me, looking deep into my eyes and sending her thoughts directly into my brain.

“Let me under the covers.”

Three times we refused.

Finally she harrumphed her way down the attic stairs one last time and refused to return. If she had opposable thumbs, she would definitely have been giving us the bird. Buds called the kids and asked them to let her out of the attic into the warmth.

When we came down from the attic this morning she was snuggled up to Babs in our bed, a big grin on her face.

“You said no, so I asked Grandma!”

I doubt she’ll be willing to even walk up the attic stairs with us tonight.