Grin (?) and Bear It

“Hmmm, just right. Zzzzzz, Zzzzzzzz…..”

What is happening?

I can’t believe this!

Who is this?? An actual person in this room?

Why? How?

Why here? Those other two work just as well, as far as I know. Because most nights, it sounds like a team of lumberjacks hacking down some old oak or elm. And then those other nights, when they make those other noises…oh boy.

And the creaking. So. Much. Noise. I always wonder, is this the night one of ‘em finally bites the dust? With hunks of wood and guts thumping off these flimsy walls when they break it. I guess I shouldn’t complain, ‘cause every living thing deserves a little relief and rest.

I guess I'm doing something right, because that kid never wakes up on his own.

And I just knew today’d shape up to be a good one.

Boy, I was wrong.

My head and legs don’t hurt right now, thank goodness. But this is supposed to be my break, darn it!

Ugh.

Whoever this girl is, she isn't moving. It's getting late, and I know they'll come rumbling through that door soon. The lot of ‘em sleep more, the closer it gets. Claws so sharp, I groan and tremble, because, yes, I do have feelings.

Inanimate object, my eye. Geez.

But, I wouldn’t mind this gingery scent, all the time. Or maybe it’s something spicier, like cinnamon or nutmeg. She floated in here, all clicking heels and swishing waves.

I try not to think about what could have been, you know, FOMO, on a life of ease.

Clean, soft linens.

A lovely Egyptian cotton duvet, posh and so very lovely, in a well-lit store window. Yes, I’d get older, and all the little ladies would pass me by, in their twirly petticoats and buffed Mary Janes, for one of my four-poster friends, timeless and perfect for a cozy bungalow.

If only. But I guess it's true that's there's always something better, a prettier girl or a softer place to rest. Such is life.

When this clan of fools bought me, I waited, hopeful and pristine, for a precious little one, to belong, to realize my purpose. A soft place for a weary little head, ready to induce soft snores and coax the little darling into peaceful, pleasant dreams.

Then they had him, and his tiny paws and barely-there claws lulled me into a false sense of security. He didn’t toss too much at first, slept through the night and always up at the same time.

Now, he’s getting to be a problem. I think that dumb woman overcooked their breakfast, and he took forever to get up, crying, whining about being hungry.

The kid weighs a ton, and it's no wonder. Cute little cub, my foot. And I can’t toss him out on his fat tushie, like those rocking chairs, when their parents get tired of ‘em.

Man, I wish I could do that. It’s dark and twisty, I know. But since my dream job is no longer available, I gotta get my kicks where I can, pun intended.

So I bide my time now. ‘Til the Big Break begins. No snores, midnight growls, or sticky, fur-laded linens. They’ll be gone, huddled up and sleeping in their hole, far, far from here.

I. Just. Can’t. Wait.

Freedom is coming!

But, I just thought of something.

If they go away, then maybe another one might show up, looking for shelter, or leftover food. And maybe that interloper is a nasty, snotty little boy, reeking of feet, lily pads, or some flea-covered mutt.

Or, maybe someone even worse.

A squatter, covered in mud or sopping wet.

Yuck.

I can’t even with any of that.

Ok, let me be clear.

I’m not a snob.

And yes, I know what I’m made for.

But there’s always a boggy riverside, for a vagabond, or a lumpy, sturdier sofa, right? Everyone falls asleep there, or camps out when they’re sick or too tired to move.

But not her. Greedy girl.

I heard that commotion in the living room before she wandered in here, and I thought she’d crash there. Or, better yet, find some place cozier, in one of those bigger, warmer houses, where all the luxurious kings and queens end up. No such luck.

“Zzzzzz, Zzzzz, Zzz—”

Oh man, she’s never waking up.

“Hmmm, so comfy. Never wanna leave.”

Wow. Thought she’d be dreaming by now.

Thwack. “Mama, I want breakfast!”

Uh oh.

“....eating my porridge!”

“What, dear? How can that be?”

“Grrrrr!”

This is not good.

“Grrr!”

Well, sounds like someone’s missing one meal today.

“—too! Gr!”

She ate the little one’s bowl, too? Oh man, this really ain’t good.

“My chair! Grrr!”

Breakfast, and those rockers? Just a one-woman crime wave.

She couldn't just get lost, like some of those dumb girls, only to get dealt with by one of those voracious predators in the wild.

But, that's another story of peril for some other wayward soul.

“Someone’s been sleeping in my bed, and she’s still there!”

Oh, little girl. What have you done?

“Ahh! No!”

Well, that escalated slower than I imagined, but I doubt she'll be back. Unless…nah. They wouldn’t actually add her to their meal, right?

This is their home, after all, and no one likes their favorite spot disrespected. Honestly, I didn’t like those floppers or jumpers in the showroom, ‘cause they made my springs pop.

Perhaps there’s a lesson for all here.

Maybe they’ll lock this place up tighter before they leave, or get one of their friends out there to stand guard when they go. Teamwork makes the dream work and all that.

And that troublemaking girl—I’ll bet she thinks twice before she barges in another home again.

As for me, I serve a purpose. And I’m still here, intact, unlike the rest of their stuff.

Maybe I’m not meant to live my dream life, or even an easier one, cherished by a gentle sleeper.

For now, I’ll stay here and hold up yet another hunk of sweated-through padding, until I’m replaced. Which, let’s face it, will happen, whether the kid grows up and leaves, or finally succeeds in busting me into pieces.

So, while they’re gone, hunting, prepping for the big sleep, or whatever they do, I should rest, and enjoy the comfort of peace and quiet.

At least they didn’t get one of those foam-top things, or I’d probably never forget this entire, absurd ordeal.