When the doorbell rings… we are the alarm!

Normally, when the doorbell rings… Olala, sacrebleu! Kita and me, we make a terrier-fying fuss, to warn Mum and Dad that a serious threat might be imminent. This morning, though, the doorbell rang at a very, very early time, beaucoup trop tôt. We weren’t even awake yet! Dad was nowhere in sight to get our morning routine going.

“Mum and Dad are still sleeping,” Kita whispered in my ear, “so we better be nice and quiet. Let’s pretend we’re not even here, and the threat will go away, I guess.” And so we did, and so it did. Whatever it was, on ne saura jamais. Kita didn’t move a muscle, she just stood there, comme une statue gelée, and I ran around a bit, comme un poulet sans tête.

We had barely resumed our sleeping positions, when Dad entered notre dortoir, apparently in one of these moods. Every move or sound he made, clearly showed that he wasn’t ready to get this Blue Monday started. And when he’s nervous, I’m not at ease either. Si je ne comprends rien, ça me rend nerveuse. But then we started cuddling and everything was great again.

Sissie Lizzie,
alias La Française

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