At first, I thought my beloved had developed some strange habits.
I would awake to the feeling of my wrist being licked. Heavy breathing in my ear. A gentle thrusting on the back of my head.
But then it became apparent. There was someone else in the bed. And so, I can say that it has been a fairly recent development that I have felt decidedly obtrusive when it comes time to go to bed.
It could be the blatant growls, the dead weight on my side of the bed, the one-eye-open glare, or the fact that she lies, firmly blocking any contact of any kind whatsoever between my beloved and I.
Yes, readers. There is another woman.
You might remember
her our little turd furbaby, Zelda:
Do not be deceived. Zelda is a jealous lover, an efficient killer and a seductive temptress. Just ask Harold Batholomew, who has often found himself the unwilling participant in Zelda’s latest sexcapades. Zelda can keep entire streets awake with a simple bark, and often has Scouty cowering in the corner.
Scouty, and most recently, me.
Zelda is the other woman.
This is the view I am afforded of my beloved, come night time:
Oh, I’ve tried moving her. Repositioning her. You’d be amazed how quickly she reclaims her spot. Zelda is like a heat seeking missile – and don’t even think about getting in her way.
Why is Zelda sleeping here?
This is why you should never, ever underestimate your own power. You might feel small and insignificant, but just one of your pubic hairs can shut down an entire restaurant. And if you are Zelda, just one of your barks, on repeat ad infinitum, can keep Scouty and Harry awake. Who then partake in barking at mysterious objects. Which then keeps the entire house awake. And the houses either side, and across the road. Our house then becomes headquarters for the local ‘hood enemies. It’s us. We’re the bad neighbours.
And so, Zelda sleeps inside.
With my beloved.
I’m getting used to having my wrist licked.
After all… Zelda was there first.