A line cast, a hope followedTuesday, October 18, 2005
Then there is being awoken at 2:00AM by a rather substantial nip on the cheek.
I am not a mother cat I sternly tell him.
He is lying on his back curled under my arm reaching up with tiny puff ball paws to pat my nose, and he wants me to think it was affectionate but I know he was banking on milk. He confirms this by kneading my shoulder. I turn over. I am sleepy.
A short two hours later, he is pouncing on my unmoving form, unmoving that is until I pick him up and deposit him on the floor. He scampers over to harrass Rainbow who hisses and complains loudly and then insists on being let out. Feed him to the dog she whines. I open the window for her and she leaves with a loud "rengrratfrmbt."
He retires to the bathroom. Checking out Acorn on the way. Acorn is not amused. She growls. She spits. He backs away. I know this not by watching, but by the lack of the sound of her swatting him. Which is more typical.
Scratch scratch scratch. scratchscratchscratch. Scratch. Silence. A bunch more scratching. The sound of cat litter scattering all over the floor. Sound of claws grabbing the blanket, then suddenly a tiny cat lying directly on my face. Faint dust from the cat litter still coating his long fur. Ewwww. Its time you slept at the foot of the bed.
Or possibly in the garage.
Oh so cute.
Oh so little sleep.
I am not a mother cat I sternly tell him.
He is lying on his back curled under my arm reaching up with tiny puff ball paws to pat my nose, and he wants me to think it was affectionate but I know he was banking on milk. He confirms this by kneading my shoulder. I turn over. I am sleepy.
A short two hours later, he is pouncing on my unmoving form, unmoving that is until I pick him up and deposit him on the floor. He scampers over to harrass Rainbow who hisses and complains loudly and then insists on being let out. Feed him to the dog she whines. I open the window for her and she leaves with a loud "rengrratfrmbt."
He retires to the bathroom. Checking out Acorn on the way. Acorn is not amused. She growls. She spits. He backs away. I know this not by watching, but by the lack of the sound of her swatting him. Which is more typical.
Scratch scratch scratch. scratchscratchscratch. Scratch. Silence. A bunch more scratching. The sound of cat litter scattering all over the floor. Sound of claws grabbing the blanket, then suddenly a tiny cat lying directly on my face. Faint dust from the cat litter still coating his long fur. Ewwww. Its time you slept at the foot of the bed.
Or possibly in the garage.
Oh so cute.
Oh so little sleep.
