ID's in the Dark
You all know that Reyna the dog has been living with us while she goes to "dog school". Thank Bast THAT will be over with soon and she'll go home! But I digress. Anyway, it means we've been spending lots of time in Mom & Dad's room, which is OK since we have food, litter and the big bed to nap on.
During the day when Reyna is out and about we prefer not to be around her, so we rest in the bedroom. And, since our food is already there, we usually stay in there at night too, even if the bedroom door left open. This all means we've been sleeping with Mom & Dad more than we used to.
Anyway, since four of us on the bed sometimes keep her awake, recently Mom and I have been conducting a highly scientific study of how to identify cats in the dark bedroom. Mom thinks she's gotten pretty good at it.
Would you like to take over, Mom?
Yes, thanks Georgie.
Picture this. 9:15PM. My husband is sleeping in a queen sized bed. Darkness, with a crack of light from the hallway coming in around the slightly ajar door. It's cold, and there is a blanket and a quilt on the bed for warmth.
I enter the room and feel my way along the side of the mattress, scooting my slippered feet along so as not to step on a wayward tail or paw, hoping I won't step in a fresh pile of yak. I turn back the covers and they move easily, not weighed down. Hmmm...no cats on the bed. That means they're milling around by the food or using the litter box before bed. I hear 'crunch, crunch, crunch' as I slide under the covers. I think that if Max uses the box I'll have to get up, get a plastic bag and scoop it right away, otherwise I won't be able to take a deep breath. Well, let's wait and see what happens. Hopefully he won't 'go' tonight.
As I get comfortable, I hear a little spat on the floor next to the bed. "Crew!" Hiss...growl...hiss. I reach down, grab my slipper and whack it against the side of the mattress. "Knock it off!!"
My husband sleeps on. "What's wrong with him? Is he deaf?", I think.
I try to drift off, then feel the Ba-bump as the first one jumps on the bed. OK, who is it? Ahhh, it's coming alongside me, up to the pillow. Hoping it's Max, I reach out my hand to feel the head, hear a soft "mmrpp" and feel a lick on my hand. No, it's Tipp, who usually announces herself this way. "OK, Tipp, lay down". She finds a place between the two pillows and settles in with her feet in my face.
My husband sleeps on. "Why doesn't she ever put her feet in HIS face?", I think.
I wait for the second Ba-bump and there it is. This one walks up my body and rests on my shoulder for a few seconds. I feel the head. Is it Max? Hmm...large head, but silky fur and purring. It's George, who claws at the edge of the covers, meowing, demanding to be underneath. I lift them and under he goes, turning around to settle against my chest, purring all the while.
I hear someone yakking up something. I get up and turn on the light to see where it is so I don't step in it. Oh, there's Max. Grabbing a handful of tissues, I pick up his pile, small, but right in the way of the door.
Back into bed, wondering Misty is. Is she even in the room?
My husband sleeps on.
I try to drift off, then hear the 'scratch, scratch, scratch'. Oh no! The smell hits my nose. "My God Max, can't you cover?!!" I try to ignore it, covering my nose with the sheet & blanket. Shallow breaths. The smell permeates the room and my husband sleeps on. "Can't he smell that?", I think.
I can't stand it any more so I get up again, turn on the light, get the bag & scoop and remove the offending deposit from the litterbox, along with everything else which I had asked my husband to take care of and he didn't, then crawl back into bed, glancing at the clock. How can it be 10:00 already?!
Repeat Ba-bumps one and two.
(sigh) Alright, where are Max & Misty? Maybe Misty is in the closet and Max went under the bed. Fine. I try to drift off with Tipper between the pillows and George next to me.
Then I feel it. BA-BUMP! OK!! Max is on the bed and settles in against my feet. I try to pull the covers up around my shoulders, but he's weighing them down so they can't be moved. I scootch down about 4" further, trying to get warm, pulling my pillow down with me. Since I have now moved down, George gets up, complains quietly and walks around a bit, then re-positions himself against my chest. Ditto, Tipper. "Get your foot out of my face". I turn onto my other side to avoid her feet, carefully placing my legs around the Max hulk. This move means George must also move to stay against my chest. He complains loudly.
My husband sleeps on, as if comatose. Note to self: Ask why he didn't scoop the litterbox!
Everyone is here except Misty. (sigh) She's probably in the closet. I try to drift off, thinking if I can sleep quietly, I can keep my hair neat and maybe I won't have to wash it in the morning. I'm half asleep when I hear noises on the nightstand. What is she fooling around with?! I crack one eye open the look at the clock. 10:35PM. "Misty, knock it off." She crosses onto the pillow above my head, finds some stray threads along the edge of my pillow and decides to play with them, disturbing Tipper who is still laying between the pillows. They slap paws. "STOP IT, YOU TWO!" I push Misty away with my hand and she finally lays down, wrapping herself around my head like a little fur hat and begins biting and kneading my hair.
I finally drift off thinking, I went to bed an hour and a half ago and now I have to get up early to wash my hair because the top of my head will look like a rat's nest in the morning.
My husband sleeps on, oblivious to everything.