brit_columbia (brit_columbia) wrote,
brit_columbia
brit_columbia

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Why don't cats let us sleep? In my experience, cats, being the nocturnal little creatures that they are, always want to wake up and play! or eat! at inconvenient wee hours of the morning. When you try to ignore them and hide under the blankets, they meow loudly and insistently right in your face, and sometimes paw at you. If that doesn't work, they jump up onto a higher place like a dresser or a windowsill and thud down heavily onto your chest or stomach. Okay, none of my own cats have ever done that, but two cats have ( to me, ow) in places where I was a visitor. And then, if you are able to withstand both the pain and the sudden, thankfully, TEMPORARY inability to breathe, and somehow drift back into sleep, the cat snorts in disgust and pads off into the kitchen to see about his own breakfast/entertainment. That's when the real trouble starts. You start hearing noises that a cat should not be able to make, such as rattling crockery and the sound of the electric can opener! Okay, yes, I'm kidding about the can opener, but not not about everything else. It's the sound of crockery actually smashing that finally gets you out of bed. When you go in to investigate, grumbling and fumbling with your robe, what do you find? A cat standing on the dining room table with butter on his whiskers and a broken butter dish on the floor underneath the table, and butter splattered pretty well everywhere. Does the cat look guilty? Well, maybe about ten per cent underneath his "This is YOUR fault for so irresponsibly ignoring me," expression. And what can we do, really? Yell? Spaz? Lock 'em in kitty jail? Spray them liberally with the water bottle? Chase them round the apartment with a rolled up newpaper? Nope, because all of that comes under the heading of "play!" and will just make the cat even more giddy than the high he got from the pleasure of stalking and killing the butter dish. Nope, we have to forgive 'em. They just wait for us to stop scolding and then they remind us about breakfast, which we resignedly give them without any more attempts to either resist their wiles or lecture a few manners into them. We trudge back to bed and just as we're sinking back into the realm of sleep, we hear the traditional breakfast hairball being hacked up...

I won't even get into all the energetic rolling about and licking that they do right on the bed until it rocks so much that everyone gets sea-sick and wants to cough up a hairball of their own.
Tags: cats
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