OK – so I have to ask a question of those who may read this who own or (more accurately) are owned by felines.
How much do you put yourself out for your fur babies?
The reason I ask this is that last night I had two of my darlings on the bed with me: Charlie was beside me on the duvet (so that was her half of the bed) and then Oscar decided to sleep on the very edge of the duvet right next to me on the other side of the bed. This effectively left me pinned in place, which was fine until I realised that I was actually rather warm and needed to just flip myself out from under the covers for a few minutes. Except that would have meant disturbing Oscar (as he was lying on my “get out” side of the bed).
Being the idiot that I am, I carefully extricated myself from the covers by edging myself up the bed towards the pillows and ended up snaking out of the top of the bed so that the fur babies didn’t get disturbed. Great eh? My logic was that, as soon as I was out of the bed, one of them would decide that I’d disturbed them enough, they’d get up, stretch and jump off.
Except that didn’t happen. I swear that I saw the two of them exchange a sly wink and put their heads back down and close their eyes.
“Oh well” I thought, “I’ll just pay a visit to the bathroom while I’m up”
So I did.
When I came back, neither of them had moved and I swear they were both smiling.
There wasn’t a chance in hell that I was going to be able to insert myself back under the covers without disturbing them. A person less well versed in the way of the feline would have just chucked one of them off and got back into bed but not me. Tough and assertive though I can be with other humans, I find this trait impossible to utilise in the presence of a cat.
So I grabbed a pillow, lifted the bottom end of the covers and settled down. Across the end of the bed.
How bloody ridiculous is that?
Fortunately Oscar took pity on me after 10 minutes and decided I’d passed the test and had been tortured enough. He nonchalantly yawned, stretched and jumped off the bed in one fluid movement – not too shabby for a 17 year old cat.
I’d like to say that I slithered back into my rightful position in the bed with the speed and grace of a gazelle. I could. But I’d be lying.