Monday, February 7, 2011

The Machine Cat

It's a blissful gift, sleep is: A time when my feet elevate to heart level, my spine rests on itself in a straight line, my biorhythms find their beat for the next 8(ish) hours. My mind is treated to a phantasmagoric film fest, an effortless meditation on my life. Everything cools down, and I imagine inside my pink flesh is the sound of a big turbine engine's deafening roar taking its last rotation before its hum decreases to a hum, then nothing.
Last night, Goober had other plans. Goober is our adopted tabby cat. Full name: Goober the Machine Cat. He is an incredibly cuddly, tolerant cat who, like most felines, sleeps all day and comes alive for nightly freak outs. He tears around the house, and we can hear his little nails bracing for sharp turns, sticking themselves into our nice carpet. He usually lets a few miaows and chat-chats escape as if he is engaged in some kind of imagined combat, like our own furry Vietnam vet with PTSD, having flashbacks.
Last night he was still asleep on the wool throw that rests along the bottom width of my queen size slumberland. As I positioned my feet with great consideration as to not to disturb his rest, I read a chapter of Major Pettigrew's Last Stand and settled in for sleep. Rich was working nights, and so I invited Skylar the retriever to join us on the bed. No sooner after I said my prayers and began the slow drift off to the land of nod did Goober decide to wake up, stretch his paws and grab a snack downstairs.
Shortly after midnight, he thought it was time to play. I heard him first retch up two big hairballs on the living room rug. I know how hard that stuff is to remove once dried, so I hopped up, scooped the bits, and threw some salt on it until I could clean it properly come morning. Not 10 minutes after I'd re-entered my dream did he begin chewing on the lamp wire in my bedroom. I sprayed him with our squirt bottle (purchased solely for this purpose) and he bolted out and downstairs. He returned, this time to slowly knock things off the bathroom counter. I sought him out, sprayed him, and returned to bed, huffing. Next on his agenda was to enter the guest room and begin ripping the wall decals off and eating the shorn pieces. I sprayed, he ran, I went to bed. This was repeated three times before I closed the guest room door. He returned to scratch at the closed door, before positioning himself right in front of mine and ripping out little pieces of carpet, just to torture my sleepy mind.
If my neighbours had been watching, last night would have been quite a show. I hopped out of bed, squirt bottle at the ready. I soaked that stupid cat and chased him all the way downstairs, hissing in my snowman pants and Whitehorse Star T-Shirt. I threw him down the stairs to the basement (of course he landed on all fours) and I finally got to sleep sometime after 1.
Today he sleeps, catching up on is missed Z's while I sip French Vanilla cappuccino's and try to keep heavy eyelids afloat.

3 comments:

  1. What is it with kitties and their night-time adventures??

    Our do the exact same thing. If we leave the doors open to the kids rooms they go in there and play with the toys and yowl loud enough to wake up the kids. Evil furry creatures!

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  2. That was hilarious! (Of course i was not the one who was hoping in and out of bed a million times!)

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  3. LMAO - How ironic, I started to read your blog and BAM something falls causing a huge noise (Skyla is napping so of course I freak at the noise ha) and I walk into the kitchen, my mom ran up from the basement asking what happened....Enzo (cat) is sitting there just staring at me, somehow he knocked over Skyla's chair in the kitchen (small chair, but still?????) then I sit down and tell my mom I have to read her this post, cause we are both laughing at this stupid cat (ours not yours) and he jumps up and starts knocking stuff off the banister down to the basement.

    Cats, ugh, it's a love hate relationship. I would never want a catless life, but my god do they ever drive me crazy ;)

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