16 years equals quite a few nights. Quite a few nights I’ve had a persnickety and touchy Siamese cat on one side of my head as I sleep. She somehow lost some of her persnickety quotient at night and even would snuggle in to my side and occasionally would rest her head on my elbow. There was a time when she would only lay on the side I was facing. There was one night she was locked in the bathroom post surgery. There was another loud and painful night she was locked in the basement to avoid her injuring the other cat at the time. As she’s gotten older and has since chosen my eleven year old as her human, she is more hit or miss when it comes to her nighttime abode.
Which is how I’ve recently been getting a face of nighttime floof. It’s how I’ve been woken by what I thought was snoring and turned out to be a motorcycle motor installed in my cat. The little orange dynamo always sleeps at our feet as the queen feline had decreed. Unless my inability to sleep meets his purring machine and I embarrassingly bang my feet one time too many and he jumps down. He is an enterprising little bugger and without the boss of the house present, he sneaks right up without us knowing and I roll over in the middle of the night to find my face full of fluffy orange tail.
I’ve gotten kind of used to it and we’ve reached an agreement where I can tuck his tail out the way and he agrees to just stay asleep. But queens have a tendency to be a bit difficult. There is not a schedule or agreement in place. So last night a war of epic proportions seemed to be waging whilst I slept. I went to bed alone. I woke to the announcing persnickety walking across my head to get to her spot. Then I woke up later to floof. Then I rolled over to Persnickety. Then floof. At one point I was victim to a claustrophobic stalemate and had one on each side. Ultimately floof won and was curled up between our heads.
Not sure what tonight will bring. As I wake up I am alone, and floof is downstairs begging for an open door. Persnickety is in the office waiting for her human to wake up. Probably oblivious to the chaos she is causing by not staying to a schedule. Or nefariously planning his demise. It’s a delicate balance.
This was such a delight to read. Their personalities come through entirely. I think it’s so interesting how they have their favorite spots and their rules about who else is allowed on the bed and where.
Cats and their schedules! I have just one eleven-year-old who has his bedtime program. I can imagine that battle. That is why I fear getting another cat. The current one is the master of our domain!
Persnickety is one of my favorite words, which drew me to your post. I like how you described going back and forth to wake up to floof. We don’t have cats, but we have a dog who tends to behave like a cat, crawling all over me to get comfy right up against me.