Do I hafta…?

Blue wakes up reluctantly and moves slowly off her pillow. She gets to the top of the stairs and peers down. For reasons she can’t comprehend, Blondie and I are down there waiting for her to come. I call her again, very loudly, and she puts her foot tentatively on the top step as though waiting for me to say “I jokes” so she can go back to bed. I, meanwhile, working on the assumption that she has started her descent to go out one last time before bed, head to the back door with Blondie.

Blondie goes out. Blue is nowhere to be seen. I go back to the stairwell and look up. Blue has come about halfway down and is now standing there looking lost. She clearly can’t remember why she’s doing this.

I call her again to jog her memory. She slowly starts down the stairs again. I head to the back door to wait for her. But still no Blue.

I go back to the stairs and find her standing on the landing looking lost again. I remind her once more what the point of the exercise is. She takes another step down as I once again head to the back door where Blondie has finished her nightly ablutions and is wanting back in.

I let Blondie in and look back for Blue. She stands at the doorway to my office, staring at me, staring at the open door, hoping for some reprieve. Alas, there is none.

With what little dignity she can muster at this point, she shuffles by me into the yard. Her whole body language tells me that she is very put out by this interruption of her REM sleep.

I know how she feels. I feel the same way when I have to get up two times a night as old age closes in on my bladder. But, as I tell her as we slowly climb the steps back to bed, it beats hell out of the alternative.