I’ve tried counting sheep, listening to music, watching a movie… You name it and it’s been done. As i lay in bed having given up all hope of even remotely snoozing, my cat struts into the room. The door creaks as she let’s herself in. I think to myself ‘yes! Ill give the cat some love and I should probably pass out.’
It begins with quietly calling her name. To which she replies with a lingering yowl and sits near the edge of my bed on the floor. I invite her repeatedly to come up for some love but the most she can muster is a squeak in my direction as she lifts her leg for some serious butt cleaning. Her blatant disregard for my calling puts me back into my hopeless roof watching as I listen to her lips smacking from across the mattress.
As heavy eyelids finally find me, my veritable moose of a cat leaps onto my bed and startles the crap out of me! She decided that it was now a good time to get loved on and proceeds to prance on my chest. I give in. I can’t help it. I reach up to start petting her and the motorboat is kicked into gear.
It’s now a challenge to keep her satisfied while trying to wean her so I can sleep. She scoots up to my throat and begins making biscuits on my jugular as I wince with every stroke. Imagine if you will, a white moose at my throat with 10 razor-like weapons gently digging into my flesh with rhythmic strokes. As she settles into her inward and outward purring, the drooling begin. She manages to let it drip in perfect places. Such as my neck crease or ear… Sometimes she even gets it in my mouth as I yell for her to remove herself from my person.
As I roll around all torn up, she treats it as a log rolling contest and successfully stays atop my highest peak throughout the turbulence. Once situated, the purring subsides and I drift off ever so slightly… Only to be stabbed awake by Bitty who decided at that very moment she needed to re-adjust. The purring, biscuit making, and neck crease drooling begins again and I decide at this point to remain still and pray she stops. I crack open my eyes and in the dim light of my alarm clock reading 3:24am, I see that I’m now breathing cat butt. This cat has done it now…
I unravel my arms from the comforter. And just as I’m reaching for her,
Pfft. Ffft. Ft.
Did she just do what I think she did!?
The undeniable smell of post-processed cat food makes me angrier than a wet hornet.
Never before that night has a foot aided in the removal of a cat from my room. If the kick was clocked, it’d give Olindo Mare a run for his money.
