To my dearest Poppy,
Oh why must you wait behind the door every morning? I’m sleepy, it’s dark and I’m at my most clumsy. Yet each morning you are there, ready for me to trip over you! Surely you should have learnt by now? I’m going to end up hurting you – or myself!
It’s breakfast time and I’m eating my Weetabix, or Cornflakes, or Granola. I pour the milk. I can see you out of the corner of my eye. You’re waiting. Just a small drop? Poppy, it’s my breakfast! Go away!
Let’s set a scene. It’s Saturday and I’m making dinner. How about a tuna sandwich? Suddenly, there you are – as if by magic – waiting for me to accidentally drop some fish onto the floor. It’s as if you have a sixth sense; the tin doesn’t even need to be open. You know. You know that it’s tuna. You will be there! (Although you got it kind of wrong the other day, when you sat there, waiting for me to open the can of kidney beans…I don’t think you’ll like them!)
You wake me up in the morning! I shut my door for a reason, yet at the crack of dawn, before even I’m awake (at the hideously early hour of 6am) there you are, scratching at my door, hoping I’ll let you in, let you onto my bed (so that you can shed your unusually long coat)! The first time you did this, I thought there was a rat in my cupboard! I freaks me out, okay?
Oh Poppy I wish you could understand me…the dogs don’t seem to have a problem! I can tell them off, and they’ll cower in their bed. I tell you off and you stare back at me, a look of “so what?” on your face!
Dearest Poppy, I do love you…but sometimes I don’t!
Cuddles and kisses