Cat Fight

Hey there.

Last night, I actually felt tired at about ten, and had enough stuff done to actually go to bed at about ten. So I did. Charlotte was having none of that, however.

What I found to be particularly annoying about my "restful night" was that she's almost always asleep at that time anyway. Regularly, she dozes nearby until I go to bed at two or three, with a brief spurt of activity at about midnight. But when I tried to go to bed early, she was wide-awake and just absolutely fascinated by the curtains.

Here's the timeline: Please keep in mind that when I say I "throw", "chuck", "toss," etc. the cat, I mean a semi-gentle, underhand arc of movement designed to get her to the floor faster than gently setting her down. I do not mean I wind up, and pitch the cat overhand across the room. First, I would never be able to bring myself to that level of violence to any living being, especially the kitty I love. Second, I doubt the cat would hold still for such treatment, even if I *were* the kind of monster who could do that to her. Now that we have that squared away, and none of you think I'm a mean, violent person who needs to be reported to SPCA, let's continue with the timeline:

I go to bed at about ten-fifteen. Charlotte looks at me like I'm crazy.

Ten-thirty, Charlotte jumps up on my pillow and stands there, pawing at the curtains as she tries to see out the really high window above my bed. I tell her no, pick her up, and set her down on the floor. She gets back up; I put her on the floor. She gets back up; I throw her on the floor. She gets back up, I pick her up, take her to the living room, deposit her, and grab squirt bottle.

Ten-forty-five, I am in bed again, squirt bottle in hand. Charlotte looks at me from the floor. She jumps onto night stand, trying for a new route to the curtains. She steps from the nightstand to my pillow, and paws at curtains. I squirt. Charlotte runs off to lick herself dry, glaring reproachfully at me the whole time.

Eleven, I doze, nearly to dreamland, but not quite there. Pressure on the pillow, tail in the face, goodbye to dreamland. I wait for her to grab the curtains, then I spring up with the bottle, and drench her backside. She scampers off to lick.

Eleven-thirty, I am once again almost asleep. Once again, a tail lashes my face, and I see Charlotte, posed, but not pawing. She's looking at me, daring me to squirt her. I glare, and shake the bottle. She turns from me and purposefully starts pawing at the curtains. I seethe as I unload half the bottle at her, aiming primarily for her face, and following her retreat with a continuous stream of mist. Charlotte bolts from room entirely, and I flop back down to sleep.

Half past midnight, there's a sopping wet tail in my face. I groan, curse the powers that be, grab the cat, get out of bed, stand by the door, and chuck her forcibly from the room. I slam the bedroom door behind her.

Three in the morning, I get up to go pee. My bedside water is out, my bottle is half empty. I fill both containers and retreat to my bedroom. I leave the door open, since the cat has surely learned her lesson. You may laugh, if you so desire.

Five-thirty, I wake to sensation of someone pulling my hair. I find the cat perched on my freaking pillow, a strand of my hair in her mouth as she tugs. I retrieve my hair and place the cat on the ground. I flop over. She returns, to bite at my hands. I push her off the bed. She jumps up to lick my face. I scream bloody murder at her, repeat the exorcism of this furry little demon from my bedroom, and return to sleep. Almost.

Six in the morning, the cat stops crying at the door, and I fall asleep sometime after this.

That's the basic timeline of my "restful" night. I have come to the following conclusions.

1. I must have gone to bed too early for the cat's liking.
2. Charlotte was confused, and thought she was doing her duty to keep me up and working.
3. If I want to sleep earlier, I need to do it on the futon, where she sees me napping regularly.
4. I am whipped. By a cat.

That's not the end of this, folks. She also knocked my toothbrush into the toilet, and got in my way while I brushed my teeth with a new toothbrush to the extent that I locked her out of the bathroom while I finished up. I also had to put her in the bedroom while I puttered around in the kitchen, to keep her from tripping me and jumping up to bat at the drawstrings of my yoga pants.

However, when I returned home, she was a fine, upstanding kitty-cat. Well behaved, loving, gentle, and all that. And since I started grading a few hours ago, and while I write this, she's been fast asleep against my left side, drooling on the futon while her tail and paws twitch. If I were in the bedroom, she'd be giving me hell.

There you have it. My little cat fight. Now that I've ranted it out, I can see if going to bed at midnight is more acceptible to the little shit.

End.