Pookie is a jerk
Me, up at 7:00 a.m.? Yeah.
And that's nothing compared to the night before last. TH and I hit the sack slightly earlier than usual because he had to cover another person's shift, which required him to get up at 6:00 a.m. That sucks considering that he got home at 1:00 a.m. and is used to sleeping way past 6:00.
After about two hours of Pookie stop! and dammit, Pookie! TH got up and went to the extra bedroom. I have no idea what was wrong with him-- or what is wrong with him, I should say, because he normally lies down between us and goes to sleep. (The cat, that is, not The Husband.) Even if I want to sleep ungodly hours, he stays there patiently. If he does decide he's ready to get up, he just gets up and goes about his business.
At 4:30 that morning I realized that Millay (aka Satan) was in the house. I realized this because she stood in the doorway and stared at me with her gleaming red eyes, communicating telepathically that she wanted to be let outside. When I went to the door, I noticed that the cats' food bowl was empty, so I filled it. A few minutes later, Pookie returned to the bedroom, curled up next to me, and slept peacefully like God intended for cute little kittens to do.
I thought the problem was that he had been hungry the entire night, so last night I made sure he was well fed before bedtime. I even gave him the rare can of wet food to make sure his belly would be good and full. He didn't bother me most of the night, but he has been up since about 6:00. He didn't leave the bedroom like he normally does. Instead, he got behind the closet door and found something that would make a most annoying scratching sound when he rattled it against the wooden door. Then he got into a basket of magazines and made some more rattling noises, got up on my pillow and made bird sounds, climbed into the box springs under the mattress and scratched at that for a while...the list could go on, but to sum it up, he annoyed the piss out of me. So much so that I gave up sleeping and took up cursing. It's Sunday morning, not even 8:00 yet, and I've dropped 3 f-bombs so far. (I'm halfway through my first cup of coffee, so in a few minutes I should be less bitter about the lack of sleep.)
I don't know what the problem is, but I hope he goes back to being an ideal kitty soon. Two possible causes of this insane behavior:
1. We have left him alone more than usual the last couple of days. He's quite needy-- for a cat. (TH says he is Sweet Tea reincarnated.)
2. Before we left for the movies two nights ago, I put some Frontline on him. I have a friend whose cat hallucinates and freaks out and generally acts like a rabid monkey on LSD when she puts that stuff on him. Maybe Pookie is allergic too.
I suppose those of you who have chirren don't have any sympathy for my cat woes, do you? I don't blame you. It's not a real problem as problems go. One day maybe there will be a snotty nosed kid who looks like me standing in the hallway at 6:00 a.m. demanding my attention. And maybe I won't throw a magazine at him and go back to sleep.
Maybe.
And that's nothing compared to the night before last. TH and I hit the sack slightly earlier than usual because he had to cover another person's shift, which required him to get up at 6:00 a.m. That sucks considering that he got home at 1:00 a.m. and is used to sleeping way past 6:00.
After about two hours of Pookie stop! and dammit, Pookie! TH got up and went to the extra bedroom. I have no idea what was wrong with him-- or what is wrong with him, I should say, because he normally lies down between us and goes to sleep. (The cat, that is, not The Husband.) Even if I want to sleep ungodly hours, he stays there patiently. If he does decide he's ready to get up, he just gets up and goes about his business.
At 4:30 that morning I realized that Millay (aka Satan) was in the house. I realized this because she stood in the doorway and stared at me with her gleaming red eyes, communicating telepathically that she wanted to be let outside. When I went to the door, I noticed that the cats' food bowl was empty, so I filled it. A few minutes later, Pookie returned to the bedroom, curled up next to me, and slept peacefully like God intended for cute little kittens to do.
I thought the problem was that he had been hungry the entire night, so last night I made sure he was well fed before bedtime. I even gave him the rare can of wet food to make sure his belly would be good and full. He didn't bother me most of the night, but he has been up since about 6:00. He didn't leave the bedroom like he normally does. Instead, he got behind the closet door and found something that would make a most annoying scratching sound when he rattled it against the wooden door. Then he got into a basket of magazines and made some more rattling noises, got up on my pillow and made bird sounds, climbed into the box springs under the mattress and scratched at that for a while...the list could go on, but to sum it up, he annoyed the piss out of me. So much so that I gave up sleeping and took up cursing. It's Sunday morning, not even 8:00 yet, and I've dropped 3 f-bombs so far. (I'm halfway through my first cup of coffee, so in a few minutes I should be less bitter about the lack of sleep.)
I don't know what the problem is, but I hope he goes back to being an ideal kitty soon. Two possible causes of this insane behavior:
1. We have left him alone more than usual the last couple of days. He's quite needy-- for a cat. (TH says he is Sweet Tea reincarnated.)
2. Before we left for the movies two nights ago, I put some Frontline on him. I have a friend whose cat hallucinates and freaks out and generally acts like a rabid monkey on LSD when she puts that stuff on him. Maybe Pookie is allergic too.
I suppose those of you who have chirren don't have any sympathy for my cat woes, do you? I don't blame you. It's not a real problem as problems go. One day maybe there will be a snotty nosed kid who looks like me standing in the hallway at 6:00 a.m. demanding my attention. And maybe I won't throw a magazine at him and go back to sleep.
Maybe.
Labels: it's not a cat blog
When the day comes that you do have a "mini me" what makes you think you will be sleeping in until 6:00 am??? hee hee hee
P.S. - magazines don't work!!
Posted by
Anonymous |
3:43 PM
If it was a child not sleeping good, break out every parent' desperation move - Benadryl. (I hear it's good for broken bones, too.)
When you said you fed him extra before bed, my immediate thought was, "Oh my gosh, she's a PARENT!" I can remember stuffing my kids full of formula, food, cereal, Poly Fill, anything I could think to stuff in them with so that I could get. some. sleep.
Magazines. Never thought of that one. Will have to keep one by the bed now....
Posted by
Redneck Diva |
5:36 PM
I always leave a pile of wadded up dirty socks at my bedside. That way, I have plenty of ammunition when the shit machine starts acting up.
Word Verification: hvyqt - "Heavy Cutie" - Someone who appreciates that real women have curves.
Posted by
Stewed Hamm |
6:09 AM