Sunday, October 21, 2012

There's a Cat on My Head!

by Leann

My husband has been gone the past week hunting. That means Rosie the dog and Wexford the cat can take up as much room as possible in the bed at night. In fact, they actually started being increasingly annoying about WHEN we would go to bed--as in begging, barking, scratching furniture and toppling stuff off the table next to me. Yes. They own me.

Friday night I stayed up way too late, enjoying my last evening off before the husband came home. I was tired and I thought since Wexford had bothered me so much about going to bed that he was tired, too. Nope. He's more about making sure where I am than going right to sleep. But I thought the dog was knocked out completely. Wrong there, too.

Perhaps I need to backtrack. Since we moved in to this lovely temporary home, I have been bothered by hives and insect bites--and sometimes I wake up with bites on my face. Last weekend I sprayed bug killer under the bed and attached a piece of fly paper to the wall near where I sleep as I was seeing tiny little gnats at times.

Friday night, I was just dozing off when all of a sudden there is a chase--a very noisy frantic chase, I might add. The cat ended up using my head as a launching pad and the dog was hot on his tail. She ran over me, too. What in the HECK was going on? No more dozing. Up I got, wanting to know what was with these two fur friends--who had just become bed enemies. The dog was sitting in the living room looking very guilty. I didn't know why. Then, before I could go to sleep again, I heard the cat under the bed playing with a rattling toy. A LOT. I went to sleep, woke up to the rattling toy again about 3 AM and then was finally forced to get up T 7. THE NOISE! Oh, and my head hurt. That's when I found blood matted in my hair. A mirror revealed a four inch scratch on my scalp, still oozing a little. Thank you, Wexford!

But my unhappiness with my fur friends turned to laughter when I was at the back glass door waiting for Rosie to finish her business. I heard the rattling toy again. Only it wasn't a toy. Wexford came into the kitchen with fly paper stuck firmly to his side, the little attached tube dragging noisily on the floor. No wonder he'd freaked out. He had what he probably thought was a snake clinging to his body all night--and the dog probably thought so too and thus the late night chase. Wexford didn't protest at all when I pulled the fly paper off of him--along with quite a bit of hair. Payback for the scratch on my head, and the wonderful bruise on my arm, I decided.

Ever have a night like that? I'd love to hear about it. :-)
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