No one should awaken at 3:30 in the morning. Even fewer poor souls need their hair pulled out by the roots to rouse them from slumber.
Someone should tell my cat this.
I am a self-confessed ‘crazy cat lady.’ Only my very un-crazy husband keeps me from populating our house with every stray cat or kitten in the neighborhood.
When I’m away from home, I miss the familiar weight of my cat on my feet. His kneading of my bare arms at midnight? Not so much.
However, if you’ve never had a cat curled up against your side and purring up a storm, you’re missing out. Very few professional massages I’ve had are more relaxing than that feline motorization.
The rumbling starts small and builds to a steady hum. The vibrations resound in my chest like a sustained bass note.
I’m nearly lulled to sleep.
He licks himself
Which of course involves sticking his back foot in my mouth – claws extended. So much for the purr-induced peace. Sleep? That’s been rudely jerked away, as well.
He paces on the pillow
Stepping on my hair so it yanks my scalp an inch away from my skull. He stands there, looking around. I think he knows it causes me pain, so he wants to revel in every moment.
He walks over my stomach
First, he paces all around the bed. How can such a small animal resemble an earthquake on a mattress supporting two adults? Once my eyes are closed, he makes the abdominal cross-over. It’s like being sucker punched.
Yes, Forrest, cat paws pack quite the punch.
He lays on the other side of me
Generally, this involves digging at the covers first. I don’t know why he likes to be under them because he only stays there for a few minutes.
He purrs – again
Lulling me into a false sense of security. Yes, I’m drifting off, soothed by the bass notes vibrating behind my breastbone.
He appears to sleep
And so do I
He licks himself – again
Cats can never get clean enough. Or maybe the purring dries out his mouth and the licking turns the spit-factory on. I don’t know, but if the claws don’t get me, the smacking sound does the trick.
He paces on the pillow – again
Yes, the results of the not-a-cat-walk across the head of our bed are the same. It’s just another moment in which I’m thankful to my mother for yanking on my scalp when I was a child. I don’t feel the pain. Too much.
And when it’s finally time for me to get up, he has curled up close to my side again. He scowls at me in that way only cats can and refuses to move. I move the entire sheet with him hammocked happily within.
Cats. Gotta love them.
What sort of wake up call keeps you laying there in the dark composing blog posts?