cat whine
I would talk more about people, but some people might object to the kinds of observations I would make about their behavior, so I talk about critters.
Critters have no masks to preserve, so even if they knew about my little online life, I doubt they'd care. The dogs especially would probably be like, "Do these people have treats? No? Then what do I care?"
Oliver would just not care.
Last night I went to bed early hoping to sleep off a deeper layer of fatigue I've been nursing since the start of school. First though I had to pretend to read a little, because that's my bedtime ritual. I feel bad for the authors I've been reading lately because, well...I haven't been reading. I just open the book, get sleepy, close the book, and go to sleep. It's not a reflection on their stories, only on my state of tiredness.
But last night it was raining. Oliver had to look out the front door and out the garage door to make sure it was raining in both places. Then, when I had snuggled into bed and opened my book, he decided he had to sit on it. Watching him try to cram his rotund butt onto a mass market paperback was good for some comic relief for about five minutes--yes, minutes--and then it got annoying. I tried to noodge him to get down and he clawed at me. Cobie got up to see what the fuss was about and Oliver clawed at him for the crime of walking by.
Finally I relocated the cat and fell asleep. An hour later he was back, sharpening claws on the bed, jumping on me, strolling around my head, shoving his crusty ass in my face. Finally I gave up sleeping and got online for an hour, which was fine with Kelly and Cobie, who'd missed their midnight snack and who didn't mind going out to pee again.
When I went back to bed, here came Oliver, clawing and tramping and purring all the while. I tried not to be, but I was getting pissed off at him. I kinda wished Kelly would chase him, but she was being a good girl and had gone back to sleep. Cobie was lying beside her, watching my struggle from the corner of one of his icy eyes.
He seemed to be saying, "Uh huh, I see who's really in charge here." But I'm sure that's just me projecting.
Eventually I thought I'd won the battle for my pillows, but it was like one of those hills in war time that has to be taken and retaken. When I woke up for the last time, he'd taken over Tim's spot. Kelly was in the bed, hiding under the covers by my knees, but Cobie, too big to hide, was in his bed. Which is really ok...except it annoys me that the cat is deciding who gets to sleep where and when around here.
Especially since I'm pretty sure this is all about rain and Oliver's desire that it should stop falling on his world. And that I should make that happen.
C'mon cat. Get a grip. The planet doesn't revolve around you.
The next DSM should rename Narcissistic Personality Disorder to Feline Personality Disorder.
Then I'd have Feline Personality Disorder Related Fatigue Syndrome. Yanno, as opposed to just being tired and annoyed.