Written by guest author Dianne Bright:
Cats sleep, sleep, and then sleep some more. If you're a cat-owner, then you know exactly what I mean. My cat Sage gets so relaxed that you'd seriously think he was dead. In fact, one day I did mistake him for dead while he was fast asleeeeeeeeep in my daughter's crib. I was so convinced he was dead that I even started to get teary-eyed. I poked and prodded him hoping he would budge, but he didn't. Eventually, he made a sharp motion that convinced me rigor mortis had kicked in. In actuality, he was just dead asleep.
In addition to my cat's uncanny ability to sleep deeply for twenty three hours per day, my cat also snores like a bulldozer. You'll be alone in the house and hear a noise that makes you think, "My gosh, someone's in the house" and then you realize, "No, it's just the cat snoring up a storm of thunderous Zs."
Likewise, my cat has an excessive way of being affectionate, which is a nice term for "incredibly annoying". Don't get me wrong, I looooooooooove cats, especially my cat. Nevertheless, when I sit down at my computer, I do actually desire to get something accomplished. My cat, however, does not understand this. Within seconds, I am attacked by his incessant plea to pet him while on top of the mouse pad or in front of the monitor. This is the same cat that jumps on the bed to lie on top of me or my husband the instant one of us gives evidence of wakefulness in the morning. This is particularly annoying when we are merely trying to change sides or get a sip of water but would like to retain our current REM cycle.
Another eccentricity about my cat is his need to paw on the doors as if he were an Olympic freestyle swimmer. It's his way of communicating to us that he'd like to come in to the bathroom while we're in there doing our business. Even when the door is adequately cracked open to our bedroom at night, Sage shuts the door on himself and then starts thrashing around as if he were being attacked by a Great White shark. Or, he does his swim workout while standing up four feet tall against our sliding glass doors to let us know he'd like to wander outside. At least this activity gets his blood pumping for a few minutes each day.
Now the hair is manageable, even though it covers the entire house, including most of our clothes and blankets. However, the hair that causes the puke-balls drives me to the edge of insanity. How can a few blades of grass cause our cat to vomit up all of his recently licked fur within seconds of re-entering the house? It's absolutely mind-boggling and especially inconvenient when he manages to throw up on one tiny edge of our recently washed bedspread.
In all honesty, after caring for my three small kids every day, I have nothing left for the cat. Despite his low status on the totem pole, he does his best to remind me that he was here even before the kids arrived. Even with his quirky disposition and his plethora of idiosyncrasies, I do love my cat.
He meows at me each morning to greet me into a new day, reminding me that I'm never alone. He lies in my kids' beds keeping them nice and toasty throughout the day. And when I see him in his coma-like state of sleep, it occasionally inspires me to do the same. Even though he's a pain in the you-know-what, he truly makes our house a home and will always be a valued member of our family.