Hillbilly Zen – Circus

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ready, Set, Done!.”

As it’s been a while since our last free-write… set a timer for ten minutes. Write without pause (and no edits!) until you’re out of time. Then, publish what you have (it’s your call whether or not to give the post a once-over).
 

It begins much too early in the morning, with hot breath on my face, wet noses giving me not-so-gentle nudges, and three sets of unblinking eyes boring into the bleary depths of mine.  I pull the covers over my head in a futile attempt to ignore the inevitable, heave a sigh, then begin the slow rise from a warm bed.

Tails begin wagging frantically, and trembling masses of heretofore restrained exuberance go from zero to full tilt boogie in a nanosecond.  The circus has begun.  Small, medium and large dogs bounce as if they have springs on their feet, and the two feline inhabitants of the house run for cover.

If I’m very lucky and very quick, there is time to get coffee started before the stars of the circus are buckled into their harnesses, which is only slightly easier than gift-wrapping Jello. The ringmistress is then dragged outside, unbuttoned coat flapping, unbrushed hair swirling and shoes only halfway on.  Suddenly the urgency disappears, and every…single…blade of grass must be properly sniffed before canine bodily functions are completed.

At last the troupe tumbles back into a house that smells of hazelnut coffee, and the stars, seasoned performers that they are, know not to get between Mama and her coffee. Now begins the second act, in which various and sundry performers must be persuaded the let their human squeeze into a corner of the couch.   Having depleted their adrenaline rush for now (after stern reminders that the kitten is NOT a squeak toy), the circus arranges itself into a drooling, snoring, farting finale.

Curtain.

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