She will stay with me in my bedroom much like a parent of a toddler does ... just until I'm relaxed or just drifting off to sleep. Then, it's almost as if she thinks, "Okay, she's almost out. It's time!"
I'm relatively sure whatever it is she's thinking it's time for is stuff that, had I actually been up, would fall into the NAUGHTY category. Pretty sure ...
Back around Christmas time, my amazing college friend, Amy, came with her little guy Ronan for a quick visit. Amy being Amy, she came bearing gifts for both myself and Emmy. Emmy was the proud recipient of a pink mouse that I quickly dubbed Pinkie.
Pinkie is, by far, her FAVORITE toy ... EVER! She carts that thing ALL. OVER. THE. PLACE. Because of this, he's a disgusting gray color now, usually covered in cat hair and the random schmeg from where ever he's just been "hiding." I frequently find him in the basement. Not sure why ... I suppose he likes to hang out down there. It's cooler in the basement, you know.
This morning, I stumbled out of my bed, as per usual, headed for the kitchen, and punched the coffeemaker. I was getting stuff laid out and ready to go for my departure to school, when something on the dining room table caught my attention. It look suspiciously like a mouse.
I walked over to the table only to realize that the item ON. MY. DINING. ROOM. TABLE. was, in fact, Pinkie the Mouse. He was ON the table! Him and all his gray, slobbery disgustingness.
Just to be clear, he was not on the table when I went to bed. In fact, his owner, Emmy, knows SHE'S not suppose to be on the table ... ever. So why Pinkie managed to find himself on the table, I am not really sure.
But it certainly makes a person wonder what in the world DOES go on around here when the sun goes down ...