Rough Caturday Morning

Olivia Wigglebothum hates roofers. I had no idea. She’s never provided me with a list of professions she can’t stand.  

 

There are roofers 3 houses over behind us. I can’t even hear them, but from the way she reacted, I thought there would be a pack of wolves in the yard. 

I was quietly eating breakfast when she pressed up against the patio doors bushy tailed and yowling. She raced from there to each window at the back of the house. I could not figure out what she was seeing until I glanced up and noticed the group of men stripping shingles off a roof. 

She is now low bellying and yodeling in the kitchen. I’m just going to drink my coffee and nurse the giant “I just want to comfort you” scratch on my hand until she pulls her shit together. 

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