And now, on a lighter note – sleeping with cats. Sleeping with Tojo the Psycho Cat, specifically. Somewhat surprisingly, this is usually a more than just pleasant experience.
Lately (for reasons too long and boring to go into), I’ve been sleeping in the guest bedroom – which, as readers know, is Tojo’s room, mainly because all the other cats hate him so much. That’s where he mostly lives, playing with and arranging his Beanie Baby dog and cat army (and the flamingo, who always seems to get tossed on the floor for some unknown reason), rearranging my guest room in ways I don’t quite understand how a relatively small cat manages to do – I’ve long since stopped to go open the door and look when the odd thump or bang emits from that room.
Tojo is great fun to sleep with, though. All his other psychoness aside, he actually is one of the most affectionate cats I’ve ever owned, and is surprisingly snuggly. He will curl up in my arm, or alongside my arm or leg, snoozing away and purring loud and happily and doing what an ex-boyfriend’s mother used to call “making biscuits” (patting with his paws) on my arm or leg.
And sleeps the sleep of the DEAD. That cat does NOT wake up unless I actually am getting up and getting out of bed and moving. I have rarely seen a cat that is THAT unconscious while asleep, other than my brother-in-law and sister’s cat, Mouse, who is missing a few important brain cells anyway.
I’m so used to sharing a bed with various pets that when I’m spending the night away from home, sometimes it takes a little getting used to having a bed to myself and falling asleep.
And sleeping with cats is not always so pleasant. When Schuyler, who passed away this summer, was healthy and big, he was great to have cuddled up with you in the winter and some nice extra warmth – not so much in the summer, and even more so with his habits of sleeping on your head (our family research over the last 40+ years shows this to be a definite black cat thing) or biting you sometimes – not hard, but not very comfortable, and another black cat thing – in places you would rather not be bitten. He also had really bad breath as he got older and more sickly, so that was even worse.
But Tojo is just a delight to snooze away a rainy morning with. I woke up several times yesterday and just got a kick out of him, purring and snoozing away, unconscious like the dead, occasionally stretching and so obviously happy and comfy and snuggly, just so peaceful. And you think, how on earth can this relatively small and – right now – very, extremely peaceful little being be such a psychotic chaotic maniac tearing through the house like the Tasmanian Devil most of the time, terrorizing the other cats and sometimes a dog or two, and just generally leaving mayhem in his wake everywhere he goes?
In any case, I truly treasure our fun and sweet little naps together. As I should, because those hours before he wakes up again are like the eye of the storm in Hurricane Tojo.
