Saturday, November 12, 2016

Insomnia, Heartburn, the Need to Pee, and a Cat

I don’t sleep well, never really have. This last bout was several days with only a collective several hours of sleep. Feeling as if my eyes would fall out if I read anymore, I opted to watch the one channel I get on my TV, which makes owning a flatscreen pretty useless.   
Whiskey makes sleep look easy

As fate would have it, I finally conked out on the couch. It’s a small couch and I am not exactly a small person, so out of a natural instinct to survive a face-first fall to the floor, I slept on my side with my face pressed against the back of the couch. What seemed like a nanosecond later, I was jolted awake by a sudden onset of heartburn along with an urgent need to pee. 

Whiskey, who had completely forgotten the bedtime contract he was forced to sign, was sleeping on top of me. His instinct was to dig in deep and hold tight when I attempted to move. As a reminder, he is 22 pounds with impressive claws. I didn't really have a leverage point, as noted I was facing the back of the couch, and the cat was pinning me from simply rolling my feet to the floor. 

The claws
I did practice kindness even in my barely conscious, burning chest state. My pleas began with “Whiskey, move honey. Whiskey, mom needs to get up. Okay, Whiskey time to hustle.” It finally escalated to a “MOVE” followed by an upward thrust and twist by me. 

Time was of the essence. I made it to an upright position, and it is then that the damn cat decided to plop on the floor between me and his red velvet bean bag chair. “Really, dude.” I side-stepped over him onto the bean bag chair, which naturally slid across the wood flooring. It had been some time since I have done the splits. I don’t know if I have every really done the splits prior to this, but I know that I have never done them while battling heartburn and needing to go to the bathroom. 

Whiskey, the large
I crawled off the bean bag and began my sprint to the bathroom and who was in front of me, freaking Whiskey. It is a narrow walkway and he was weaving and sauntering along so I couldn't get past him. Just for fun, he looked over his should at me a few times. I swear he was smirking, cats are very vicious animals. 

Having no other recourse I jumped straight up into the air and landed heavily on the floor hoping the sound of my bare feet on wood would startle the little fur ball into action. It did, but did he sashay to the left and go into the kitchen, no he darted into the very small bathroom and sat in front of the toilet. I did a sort of backwards leap to land on the commode all the while about ready to kill him, and he looked up at me and purred. Seconds later he left the room with his tail held high.

I think cats were created to remind us that we really should relinquish all control because we don't have that much to begin with. 

The story ended well, I got into bed and both Whiskey and Boris joined me and purred me back to sleep.

Every Color Deserves a Forever Home
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