Mr. Taleteller and I actually went out Saturday night to celebrate Valentine's Day. We ate out, saw a movie, and just generally enjoyed each other's company. We agreed that we wanted to stay in Monday night, relax after work and have a nice quiet evening at home together.
Monday night got off to a good start. I arrived home to find my husband had taken off work early and had roses and chocolate waiting for me on the kitchen table. He knew I'd been wanting to get back in the habit of afternoon walks with the girls and he was ready with Morgan so that we could go with Bunny for our usual jaunt around town.
Things were going really well. It was a wonderful Valentine's Day, both on Saturday and Monday afternoon. We got back from our walk and put a pizza in the oven to enjoy while we watched TV. I sat down on the couch with visions of finally getting a foot rub. It's funny how often I used to get those before we got married, but I digress.
As I sat in the living room, I thought I heard something. I cocked my head to listen, and noticed that Morgan had the same expression in canine form that I must have had. We have a wonderful front porch that was actually one of the reasons we decided to buy our house, but in the winter, it doesn't see much use. It appears that one of the local feral cats has taken up residence there under the porch furniture.
It would be our luck that the cat in residence went into heat on Valentine's Day. I wish I could say that I am joking, but I couldn't make up something so upsurd. The sound that started coming from our front porch just as the pizza was done would have woken the dead. Our trusty Shepherd ran to the front window -- and didn't make a peep. She stared out the window and made a few whimpers as her ears twitched in curiosity and anticipation. I opened the door and five cats scattered to the wind. Morgan watched them go and lost interest after I closed the door.
As the evening went on, the feline love song continued on. No sooner would we sit back down then Morgan was back at the front door sniffing the crack, which seemed to be the precursor to feline romance. Things settled into a regular routine. We sat down on the couch, Morgan got up to check the door, went to the window, the hell cats began to wail, we got up, opened the door, the cats ran off, we closed the door, and got Morgan settled. Then we got to start all over. Those cats were determined to get to know each other and there was no convincing them that a more private venue would foot the bill.
Apparently, cat romance is the gift that keeps on giving, too. Any thoughts about romance had flown out the window by the time we headed into bed. We were just happy for blessed silence. So far, the cats are still playing the dating game out front, too. I can only hope that the warm weather convinces them to find a more private and secure place to set up the nursery.
So, how did you spend your Valentine's Day? I hope that whatever plans you have for Friday night turn out to be free of cat romance!