Every few months, Hobbes gets the idea that he needs to sleep on mom every night. It’s either that, or on our legs. Either is very annoying. Now being warm furniture wouldn’t be so bad if I owned a cat that weighed less than 10 pounds. Hobbes is 17 and Penny is a hefty 14. Neither is light. So every morning at some gawd awful hour, such as 4 am, I have to wake up and TRY to move Hobbes toward the end of the bed. Not an easy task when he pretends to be a lead weight and I have no energy. He also looks terribly put out to be moved. Sorry cat, but my muscles are seizing up from you stupendous weight. This morning was another round of waking at 4 ish, moving the dead weight, then not being able to fall back to sleep. This, followed at 5, by Penny puking on the stairs. Some days I’d like to put the door back in our staircase and not have to deal with it all. But then I’d miss the sweet Bubby sighs and the huge amount of snuggled up purring that comes from both of them as we all fall asleep. Oh well, my sleep is highly overrated. I will not skin the cats yet.
I am warm furniture. October 12, 2010