Post last updated: October 10th, 2018
I think we should add a new word to the English lexicon that would combine the words cat and crap. Twitter users would then have a hashtag — #ohcrat — for stories about their beloved cats.
One of my cats lives permanently with Poppie because my other cat, Whiskey, is a bully. I bear all the expenses of cat ownership but visit with Big Foot only when I cook dinner for Poppie. Thus, I am down to one cat who will come inside at night and sleep with me. I like the comfort of a furry animal who takes over most of the bed.
There are downsides to furry animal comfort. It is not bestowed nightly, due to roaming, and comes with a hefty fee, thanks to Poppie’s habit of feeding the cats a “red eye” special. In other words, on the nights Whiskey deigns to sleep inside, his habit of catching the red eye special does not change. It simply does not matter to him that I am NOT a morning person. Such a shortcoming on my part garners no empathy. His non-roaming fee must be paid. At 4:30 a.m.
For me, 4:30 a.m. is prime sleeping time. The thriller novel finally set aside, the 2 a.m. bathroom call satisfied, you get the picture. Whiskey has to really work at waking me at 4:30. If meowing, walking on me, hair pulling and face sniffing do not raise me from my slumbers, he starts throwing things off the night table. A tube of lotion, an ink pen, a pencil. In final desperation, he pulls out all the stops. Hearing the glass water bottle slide off the night table and crash to the carpet ALWAYS transforms me into a morning person mentally hollering “Oh crat!”