Sanna's Bag

“I never seem to have what I need when I need it. I’m going to make a belt-bag that’s bigger on the inside than on the outside, and just carry everything with me.”

Monday, November 10, 2008

Sunday morning . .

five AM, and on Sunday, we sleep in. No alarm clock. Only the sound of my beloved gently snoring, the pitterpatter of rain on the roof. The air is cool, the bed is warm and I'm coasting in that magical state half between dream and conscious(that place where when all the little id-jits get to come out and play with my creativity) when the drowsy peace of the morning is rent by the skitter of claws on hardwood as Newton's third law of motion comes into effect and impetuous south-directed momentum is changed to east-directed momentum on a relatively slick surface. With a blood-curdling squeak, the fierce Manxian warcat hits the bed like an eleven pound fur-covered cannon ball, pounces on my belly, vaults to the headboard shelf, squeaks again ("Crivvens!") then hurls herself down onto my belly, his belly, and off out of the room, pursued by the other two cats who had been quietly sleeping with us.

"Uhhhh?" my beloved querries.

"Pepper," I reply.

"Mmmm." He rolls to his side and pulls the covers up to his ear.

Two minutes later, Fly comes in, grumbling. Anyone who has lived with cats knows the sound of cat grumbles. Anyone who doesn't know the sound wouldn't understand if I wrote them out. I feel the bed shake as his fourteen pound ponderosity mounts the mattress. Grumbling,("Damn kids. There ARE no brain-sucking vampire squirrels. I got up for nothing") he walks across the bottom of the bed and up my side, then plops his black velvet butt down next to the pillow and stares at me, thinking fiercely, "Hat."

I groan quietly, but submit to his command and shift down in the bed till most of the pillow is free. He then drapes himself around the top of my head, taking full advantage of the warmth in the pillow space I have vacated.

Meanwhile Pepper and Ben are experimenting with their old buddy, Gravity. Sundry small thumps, crashes, and clatters errupt from different areas of the house. I refuse to rise and deal with it. Instead, I drowsily try to figure, from the sound, partially muffled by cat feet over my ears, what the different sounds mean. That must be the pencil can next to the phone. And that's the magazine basket again. Brief silence, then, Crash,Rattle,prangtingtingtingting.... Hmm. The recycling bin? That sure sounds like catfood cans rolling around on the kitchen floor. No. I will not get up.

Oh drat. Fly, our only indoor/outdoor cat has fleas! Ewww, now I feel imaginary tiny beasties prancing all over my skin. Is it annoying enough to get up and deal with? Is it? Well, is(yawn) zzzzit?

6AM: With a blood-curdling squeak, the fierce Manxian warcat hits the bed, . . .

9 Comments:

  • At 10:03 AM , Blogger Lucia said...

    This is the funniest thing I've read all month! Ah, life with felines. Prangtingtingtingting... *snerk*.

    (You should see Fluffy, all 15 or so pounds of her, locked in mortal combat with a tiny scrap of paper.)

     
  • At 1:08 PM , Anonymous tlbwest said...

    Ethel the obese, the cat with the eating disorder, has been sleeping in my room lately. Luckily, she can't make it onto the bed. However, she snores, snorts, and snarfles quite dramatically - gaining weight seems to have made her adenoidal as well producing the dreaded "fat cat butt" - hey, that's a technical term used by my vet!
    She gets up by 6, comes to the bedside, and pulls on the bedding while vocalising emphatically, because she gets up in the night and eats anything she can reach...
    so by dawn, the food is all gone.
    Poor Ethel.

     
  • At 2:27 PM , Blogger Galad said...

    I am usually awakened around 6 AM by either a head butt from Merry (accompanied by very loud purring) or 16.5 lbs. of Pippin sitting on my chest meowing in to my face. Sometimes Icey also tunes up from the floor. Thankfully, the racing across the bed is reserved for special occasions. The joys of being owned by a cat!

     
  • At 5:34 PM , Blogger Amy Lane said...

    Who needs LOL cats when we've got this!!!! Hilarious! (And sadly, I know from experience, true.)

     
  • At 5:39 AM , Blogger Donna Lee said...

    those darned vampire squirrels are tricky. There one minute, gone the next. We used to call that the "5 o'clock Kubla" because she would run around like a maniac at around 5 every day. AM and PM.

     
  • At 7:01 AM , Blogger Alwen said...

    "Hat."

    Boy, I am getting my share of giggles in Blogland today.

     
  • At 5:29 PM , Blogger Willow said...

    LOL. Which is why The Professor finally said, "Please. Not more cats."

     
  • At 2:15 AM , Blogger Kate said...

    What is it about cats and 5am?!? Thank God I've only one furball - your account has just confirmed for me that Harvey will continue to be king of the quilt. His 5am tricks are long but I'll share one with you - he creeps up to where I've buried my head into the quilt, he gently pads it down to expose my nose, he leans in and huffs up my nose! Nope, can't sleep past that!

     
  • At 2:29 AM , Blogger Kate said...

    Honey, I've been pondering about time and the blog interview and I got hit with the Reality Stick. I looked at my bookclub book (Ines of my Soul) and discovered that I've read exactly 52 pages over the last 31 days and we're meeting tomorrow night. Sheesh. I used to read one book at least in a week. It's not as though I'm not enjoying it, either. So, I'm off the list of reading books at the moment (I never thought I'd ever be writing THAT). I'm also resigning from the bookclub at the end of this year - I can't afford to get books I'm not going to read!

     

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