One Crazy Night in Nashville

After Chinese takeout for dinner and Extreme Moose Tracks for dessert, a night’s worth of Law & Order, and catching up on email, it was time to head off to the guest room at the Nest- Foster’s Disciplines in hand.

There I find a twin bed, fully appointed with stuffed penguin, 3 layers of blankets and a large orange and white cat. I start pulling blankets back and placing extra pillows and such on the floor. The cat does not move.

I turn on the lamp and shut off the overhead light, crawl under the covers and start reading. The cat does not move.

I read my chapter on Submission, praying through my current situation, realizing that I need to develop this discipline. The cat does not move.

I get up to turn off the lamp and check to be sure the door is open just a bit, so that the cat can leave when I start my usual night-time flopping from side to back to tummy to other side and so on. I climb back in bed and find comfy position 1. The cat does not move.

Did I mention that I’m really not a cat person? Perhaps this is object lesson number one in submission… Must I submit to the will of the big orange cat to have this spot on the bed? I attempt wrestle with this concept, and as I doze off the cat does not move.

I wake up in the middle of the night, my hips aching and roll over again. The cat still has not moved.

I wake up again, this time because the fire alarm just outside my door is chirping. It’s 3 am and it needs a new battery. Chirp. Right now. Chirp. Really. Chirp. The cat has not moved.

But now the cat has company… the chirping woke up the dogs, one of which used the slightly open door that the cat clearly has no intention of walking through before breakfast to come into the room. He jumps up on the bed, paying no attention to the human attempting to sleep there, curls up next to the cat and promptly begins to snore. Oh– the cat doesn’t even flinch!

I’m in that hazy drugged-feeling state one hits when sleep is needed but just out of reach. The sun has come up, so it’s almost too bright to sleep. Someone graciously has closed the door so that I don’t have too much morning noise coming in- completely unaware that the cat and the dog are inside, not moving.

Did I mention that I’m really not an animals-sleeping-with-me-is-comforting kind of person?

After I make an assertive move toward the middle third of the bed, the dog shifts down toward the foot of the bed. Ahh, a new lease on life and 30 minutes of decent sleep in a new position.

The cat, of course, does not move.

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6 thoughts on “One Crazy Night in Nashville

  1. The cat says he misses you. Best friend’s kid just kicks him off the bed. Best friend kicks him off the bed. Best friend’s hubby kicks him off the bed. You, on the other hand, were the best bed buddy he’s ever had. Congratulations! Oh–and come back soon.

  2. The cat says he misses you. Best friend’s kid just kicks him off the bed. Best friend kicks him off the bed. Best friend’s hubby kicks him off the bed. You, on the other hand, were the best bed buddy he’s ever had. Congratulations! Oh–and come back soon.

  3. I have that sort of a cat. Except she doesn’t want to sleep with me, just with my visiting mom in the spare room bed. Mom is not thrilled.

    What is up with cats!?

  4. I have that sort of a cat. Except she doesn’t want to sleep with me, just with my visiting mom in the spare room bed. Mom is not thrilled.

    What is up with cats!?

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