A couple weeks ago, around 2:00 am in the morning, I heard the cat batting something around next to the bed. I thought I was dreaming, but I was pretty sure I heard a bird chirp. I contemplated getting up, but I’m extremely lazy, so I laid still for a few moments until the noise stopped. For a split second, I had an overwhelming fear that he would jump on the bed with whatever he had maimed and drop it on my head, but he didn’t. I laid there for about ten minutes longer, silently praying that some half-dead zombie bird wouldn’t jump up and peck my eyes out, until sleep pulled me back under.
The next morning I awoke to a pile of feathers next to the bed.
“Where the hell is the rest of it?” I wondered aloud as D peered beneath the bed for bird parts.
“There’s nothing else here. He must have eaten it.”
“Where did he get a bird at 2am?” I pondered. There were a couple of feathers tipped with bloody stumps as Koal lay across the room with a look of deep satisfaction. “Bad kitty,” I admonished, shaking my finger at him. He ignored me with typical catty disregard. The bird feathers remained in a pile next to the bed for about two weeks, because I’m apparently not the only lazy one in the house. I’d just like to point out that they were on D’s side of the bed.
Right about the time I’d finally had enough of the feathers, I decided to have a massive spring cleaning event. I blew the dust off the vacuum cleaner (ok, not really, because I’m too lazy to do that, too), and sucked up Koal’s trophies. Since I’d gone that far, I decided to keep going because I felt guilty for leaving dead bird parts laying around for longer than I’m ashamed to admit. I spent the better part of the day cleaning the house top to bottom, and was happy to find that we were only harboring two lizard corpses and a couple of dead crickets. I collapsed into bed around 9:00 pm, satisfied that my house was no longer a petri dish for bird flu and other CDC-worthy diseases.
Seriously, I work all day. How do women pull off the whole domestic/working mom thing? I like sleep too much for that.
Anyway, I was halfway between awake and asleep, in that beautiful world of heavy-lidded fuzziness, when Koal jumped up on the bed to cuddle as he does every night. He likes to climb right up to my chest with his nose next to my mouth. I read somewhere that cats do that because they can tell everything about your day that way, including how you feel, where you went, and most importantly, what you ate. It makes them feel closer to you. I’ve also read that this is how they suck the life out of you.
I disagree with the latter theory. I think their plan is much quicker than that. I have proof.
Koal was about boob-level when I noticed in my sleepy state that something was wrong with his sweet little cherub-like face. As he moved closer, I realized he had something in his mouth. As he settled in on my chest, my eyes finally focused on a small, brown head.
My worst nightmare. A roach.
And that’s when the little bastard dropped it on me.
And it was still ALIVE.
I shrieked so loud that I’m pretty sure D grabbed his gun, but I don’t really remember because I was screaming and jumping around so riotously that I flung the covers violently, which threw the roach back INTO THE BED. It ran for its germ-filled, sewer-sucking life, ducking in and out of the covers as Koal pounced playfully, slapping it around with his paw. By now, D realized that the perpetrator was not human, and traded the gun for a shoe. Now both D & Koal were taking turns trying to smash the roach ON THE BED as I’m hyperventilating across the room. D finally trapped it beneath the shoe and a towel as Koal tried to bat the towel away, thoroughly enjoying this kill-the-bug-and-give-mommy-a-heart-attack-game.
“Come here!” D called, trying to keep the roach between the soft towel and the shoe as he moved towards the bathroom.
“OH HELL NO!!!!” I answered.
“Come on, I need your help!”
I followed about four feet behind him as he poised the towel-shoe trap over the toilet. Koal followed, disappointed that the game was over. “Okay, get ready.”
“Kristie, it’s just a bug.”
From behind, the cat echoed his statement. “Mew!” I glared at him, no longer feeling guilty about chopping off his nuts.
“Shut up, cat!” I turned back to D. ”NO! As soon as you move that shoe, it’s gonna fall down, land on the ground, and crawl up my leg!”
D sighed in exasperation as he maneuvered the towel so the roach dropped unceremoniously into the toilet.
“FLUSH IT! HURRY!” I yelled. He rolled his eyes as he pushed the silver lever down, sending our nighttime tormentor to a watery grave. Actually, he probably just sent the little bastard back down with all his buddies, and I’m pretty sure they’re planning a full-scale attack when the weather warms up. But that’s another story, and I’m pretty sure the cats are in on it. And I have proof.
I walked back into the bedroom to find Koal stretched out on my pillow. I lifted him up and promptly tossed him out the bedroom door, closing it loudly behind him.
D laughed. “You’re kicking him out for that? I thought he was your ‘baby!’”
A small black paw poked underneath the door, a useless gesture of amnesty. On the other side, I could hear him apologize in his sweetest, manipulative kitten voice.
“Mew!” Paw, paw. Pause. Paw. Paw.
But my heart was still racing, my bed was a mess, and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep for two months without imagining something crawling in my ear.
And that’s why the cat doesn’t sleep with us anymore. The end.