Oh, Mrs. Wigglebottom. She’s got a bug up her butt this week that she wants to sleep with me. And you can try to ignore her, but she just paces back and forth around the bed, her nails clicking on the wooded floor in a manner that makes it impossible to sleep and then, when the clicking stops, it’s because she’s just standing at the edge of the bed, staring at you.
So, fine, I lift her into the bed.
This morning, I am sleeping with my head on Mrs. Wigglebottom’s belly, all nestled in the curve of her side, as is one of the great pleasures of owning a big dog when I wake up just enough to notice that I hear snoring. I check. It’s not me. And it’s coming from the foot of the bed!
I sit bolt upright in bed. I don’t know what I thought, that there was going to be, somehow, another dog at the bottom of the bed or something. But I was freaked out.
And Mrs. Wigglebottom looks at me from her spot at the foot of the bed all “Why are you waking me up so early?”
And I look over and the new kitty is sprawled out right where my head was, giving me this look like “What? You don’t like cuddling with me?”
I mean, I knew they’d settled some of their differences, but I didn’t know they were sleeping together.
Whew, scared the crap out of me.
Also, the tiny cat situation has really gotten me down. I feel like I keep hearing her meowing and then I realize it’s just one of the other cats. It breaks my heart.