Ok, so our February BBQ was probably the best idea we’ve ever had. It was awesome. Everything went well. Those charcoals just lit right up like they’re supposed to. Like they wanted to be cooked on. There were two beers hiding in the back of the fridge for us to drink while the coals heated up. And it was still warm enough to stand by the grill without a jacket on.
She made chicken and beef strips, potatoes, mushrooms, roasted peppers and yellow squash.
I gotta say, having such a treat in the middle of February is kinda like getting surprised with a vacation or something. Your tongue is just not expecting this culinary delicacy at this time of year. Just wonderful.
So now, after this wonderful meal, we’re stuffed and tired and decide to go to bed early. This sounds like a great idea to me too since I haven’t been sleeping so well lately. Boy, was I in for a surprise.
I have three cats. One of them looks like this:
His name (phonetically translated from hungarian, my wife’s native tongue) is Tootsley. Oh, how sweet and innocent he is. He really is. He’s our sweet boy, always purring, always wanting to sit on your lap and just be pet. He’s wonderful. He’s also very vocal. He walks around, meowing to his tiny hearts’ content all the time.
Now you might be asking yourself where this is going. I’ll tell you.
Between the hours of 11pm and 6am, I hate him. With a burning passion. Like, ready to kill him with my bare hands, hate him.
So, last night, we let all of them out for the night cause it’s warm out and they’re nocturnal and all. (Don’t worry, I live on a nice and safe dead end street backed by woods. They love going out.) This was about 9pm. We honestly turned right into bed and I fell right asleep. Wonderful.
An undistinguishable amount of time later, I am awoken by some sound. A small, mewling kind of sound. I realize that we have cracked our bedroom window for some of this lovely warm February air. I keep hearing this sound. I’m still half asleep so I’m still not sure what it is. Now it suddenly gets much louder and I realize this as Tootsley’s voice. (Yes, I can tell the difference between each of thier voices. Call me crazy cat lady, but it’s true.)
So I try to ignore him, thinking he’ll get tired of this. But he’s getting steadily louder and I’ not sure how he’s pulling this off. (My wife is dead to the world and hears none of this, by the way. She will tell me I am crazy in the morning and that none of this actually happened.) So I pull back the curtain to reveal that he has jumped up onto the air conditioner that sticks out of the wall directly outside my window and is looking at me now.
Shit. I’m screwed. He’s seen me now so he knows I’m awake. He meows louder. I now realize that he’s not going to give up, so I haul my sorry ass out of bed and let him into the house. It is now 12:30. I think this is good enough and go back to bed, closing my bedroom door. Silly human.
So he eats his mandatory bits of food that he must consume upon entering the house and goes and takes a nice drink from the sink. I’m starting to fall asleep. Then he realizes that I have shut the bedroom door. Big mistake, according to him. My door has a gap at the bottom that is just large enough for small kitty paw to fit through. He manages to get small kitty arm all the way under and scratch at the inside of the door, while taking up his cat song once again. Meow meow meow meow meeeeeeoooooooooowwwwwwww.
Now my wife starts to hear something. He is her favorite and can do no wrong so she tells me he’s not going to stop until I let him in, so just let him in. I huff and puff for a bit, but let him in. He shuts up.
Now he climbs on the bed, looking for a suitable place to knead. My wife tries to keep him on her side, but no. He must be touching both of us. He actually just places a paw on the back of my arm and starts to knead. Now I mentioned before that my cats go out. Therefore that means that thay have all of thier claws and we don’t clip them much so they’ll be able to defend themselves, should they need to. That also means that he is kneading the back of my arm with eagle talon like claws. He is also purring very near to my head at maximum volume. My wife happens to find this funny at this moment and cracks herself up. I proceed to rip off the covers, take my damn pillow and off to the living room I go.
Now, he looks like this:
Evil Tootsley(Mr. Bigglesworth). I’m convinced he just wanted my side of the bed. I’ve been outwitted by a 13 lb. animal in the middle of the night. And it was all just part of diabolical plan to make his humans nocturnal as well.