“Well, spit.” I muttered darkly as I gazed down inside the empty coffee container. This wasn’t good. I eyed the cabinet, hoping that by some miracle, there’d be another container of coffee that my sleep-befuddled mind had somehow missed.

Nope, no such luck.

I slanted a look at the clock on the microwave. 7:30 am. On a Saturday no less. I should still be in bed, sleeping. It had been a rough week and I had been looking forward to an extra hour or two of blanket-cocooned goodness.

Yet here I was, awake. I looked down at what had awoken me, scowling.

“You do realize, don’t you, that if Snarf Demon wakes up and there’s no coffee, going outside will be the least of your worries, right?” I snorted.

Innocent brown eyes gazed up at me and she opened her mouth in a sort of rolling growling noise, wagging her tail apologetically. Behind her, her brother sat, tongue lolling, his face in its typical goofy expression of hyper happiness.

I sighed mournfully and put the empty container down on the counter. I grabbed a “doggie-doo” bag and eyed the now bouncing dogs. As I headed for the hallway and their leashes, my daughter emerged from her room, sleepy eyed and groggy.

“We’re out of coffee.” I remarked.

With a muffled squeak and widened eyes, she did an abrupt about face and darted back into her room. The door shut and I heard the lock turn.

I couldn’t help it. I snickered wickedly and then took the dogs out. As usual, they bounced down the stairs and insistently pulled me towards the “potty area”. I firmly readjusted my hold on the leashes, wondering for the billionth time just how it was that two seemingly tiny puppies could turn out to be such huge monsters.

Not that I really minded. Just, they’d both been on the tiny side and gave no indication they’d get much larger than about 70 pounds each.

Bear, the male, was nearly 110 pounds and looked sort of like his Black Lab dad. He had his mother’s tawny wolf eyes, though. Nia, the female, was a soft strawberry blonde, like her mom, and topped 90 pounds. In contrast to her brother, she’d gotten her dad’s soft brown eyes, ringed with black so that she looked like she was wearing eyeliner.

Bear was the hyper goober. Nia was the quiet, gentle, DEVIOUSLY SNEAKY one. Together, they presented a formidable looking picture of canine “Do not f*ck with me”.

Their business done, I took them back upstairs, trying to be as quiet as I could. I went back to the kitchen cabinet. Nope, still no coffee.

From my bedroom I heard a muffled roar, then the skittering of claws on tile as both dogs came sliding in to hide behind me. I winced at the sound of irritated cursing that floated through the house.

“You just had to go bounce on him, didn’t you?” I accused, glaring at Bear, who had the grace to look somewhat abashed. “I should leave you to your fate, you know. Give me time to get to the exit. Oh, well. All for one and all that rot.”

I eyed the coffee container again. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but this was an emergency. Of a sorts.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and hummed.

An instant later, I cracked open an eye and then relaxed. Well, no lightening bolt had struck me down. I reached for the coffee container and looked.

“Oh, goody.” I snorted. Inside, there were just enough grounds to make a half a pot of coffee. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers.” I’d just managed to turn on the switch when IT stumbled into the living room. I watched IT warily. I’d faced monsters that were less fearsome.

IT’s hair was sticking up and out at all angles. IT’s eyes squinted at the morning light, then at me as a low rumbling started deep in IT’s chest. The coffee pot hissed and the faint aroma of caffeine began wafting in the air.

“Mmmrrrwwmmmfff?” IT went.

Hesitantly, I approached IT. As Snarf Demons go, this one wasn’t all bad. I wasn’t really scared of IT. IT just tended to be rather loud when IT was cranky and that hurt my ears. Most of the time, IT was kind of on the cute and furry side. Most of the time.

When IT got cranky and loud, it was rather like a severely tantruming witch-child. One never knew if one would get fireballs or waterspouts.

However, unlike a tantruming witch-child, there was nothing to bind. You just had to wait it out. As Snarf Demons went, this one wasn’t destructive or dangerous to one’s person. Just loud. Once IT was done, IT always wanted to be petted and cuddled, no matter that you were in a state of dazed confusion, IT needed reassurance you still loved IT.

As Snarf Demons went, IT was unique. As fearsome as IT could appear and sound, IT was a big cuddle bug if you timed yourself just right.

I waited until IT finished rubbing a paw through its hair and over its face and focused its bleary gaze on me. I made a cooing noise in the back of my throat and placed a massaging hand on the back of its neck.

“Mmmrrrrffff.” IT grumped and stepped forward to lay its head on my shoulder and wrap its arms around my waist.

I sighed as I petted and scratched and hugged. IT was fairly purring by the time my daughter’s door cracked open a scant inch. She warily peeked out, then darted into the bathroom. I bit my lip against a snicker.

“Coffee?” He said plaintively.

I drew back to look into my husband’s eyes, now awake and lucid. I kissed him and went to the kitchen to fill two mugs. The Snarf Demon had retreated for now.

A faint chuckle reached my other senses and I sighed deeply. I made a mental note to light an offering of incense and go to the store first before anything else.

I hated close calls.

2. Why Me?