It's like living with a mental patient*
Dear Hannibal,
Oh My God.
Really?
I adore you, I really do. I would give you anything your kitty heart and soul desires... That's what makes it so hard to understand why you must torment me so.
You are SO cute. I like that you talk. Talky cats are hilarious but what's with the SCREECHING at 2 - 3 - 4am? I sit up in bed, terrified that something is wrong with you but I stumble out into the kitchen to find you hollering at your shoelace. And those looooooow drawn-out "wwwwwwoooooooooowwwww" sounds? Heartbreaking and deafening but apparently you've just lost a pompon under the stove. WHO ARE YOU?!
Last night for example, I got into bed and eventually you joined me, something new! You slept for a while and even when Mark got home you stayed with me. But at some point, maybe around 2am when Mark woke up unable to breathe because you "were sticking [your] face in [his] mouth"**, you woke up and decided to get some heavy lifting done - or something equally as loud. Tearing around the house from room to room, meowing, playing with your crinkliest ball of wax paper, knocking things over, hurling your 15 pounds of dead weight off of the furniture, skidding back into our bedroom to scratch at the boxspring (I can forgive, Scruffy did it too), announcing your presence and your thoughts on all world politics then tearing tail right back out again to see if we could hear you from the other side of the house. How poor Cypress gets any sleep, I'll never know.
When I do finally get up (after finding one of my regular mittens and one of my dog-walking mittens stashed in your tent) I see "oh, no food! you're just hungry" but even after stuffing your furry face with kibble you yell for me to come watch you jump off your perch and scamper/slide across the kitchen floor. This crying wolf is really going to get you into trouble some day.
Bless your furry little hide for coming into our home to keep me busy and give me someone to fuss over - but the occasional chill-pill wouldn't kill ya dude. I KNOW you sleep all day in preparation for being a night terror, I just know it. But I love you and your hilarious lack of an indoor-voice. Your headbutts and begging for belly rubs really make it all worth while. I guess the dog, Mark and I will eventually be able to turn our ears off til you wear yourself out and flop onto the floor in exhaustion. And maybe you'll even get sick of the sound of your own voice and just Can It for once.
If you could find it in you to let me sleep in on Saturday and Sunday this weekend, I'll totally be your best friend and give you extra treats. K? Thx!
xoxoxo
Your Momma, Sarah
*no offense to mental patients.
**Mark's okay, he's def. allergic to cats but with Scruffy he built up some kind of immunity and hopefully that will happen w/ Hanni too.