So we have a new kitten. She's ridiculously adorable and fantastically rambunctious, as kittens tend to be, and not at all inclined to "respect her elders," i.e Dervish and Nox. They are coping. Troy has named her. After observing her unique hunting style (wherein she crouches in shadows, often on a lower stair than her intended prey's ankles, waiting in silence--devoid of the traditional kitten-y butt-wiggling and over-zealous pouncing--until just the right moment, when she strikes like lightening at the lower limbs of innocent passers-by, then immediately races away to lurk once more in her shroud of darkness like a Ninja), he was most adamant that she must be called "Assassin." I argued she was far to cute to carry such a name. Perhaps we could call her Lucy. He was steadfast. We call her Sassy.
The dark hours of night are of course a playground for those of her ilk, and last night was no exception. The difference came from it being was so hot and so humid in our house that in order to sleep even remotely comfortably, we were forced to leave all the doors (not exterior, of course) and windows open so that our legion of fans could keep the air circulating. Oh, was this a thrill to Sassy. Shortly after 2 AM, I awoke to Morgan's firm little voice ordering, "No! No No NO!" What did I find upon inspection? A frisky kitten, in her crib, had nibbled her toes (in a cute way, of course) until she woke up, then proceeded to try and play with her. Why she would pick Morgan I don't know, as Morgan tortures her-carrying her by her neck, pulling her tail to keep her from running away, typical cat vs 2 yr old interaction. But there she was, waking her up and begging for more. Perhaps she thought this was her golden opportunity to reap revenge. I ousted her from the room and closed the door. Shortly after 3 AM Sassy felt lonely, and decided to join us in our bed. She lay there quietly, but I could feel her tail twitching and knew it was coming. Sure enough, after about ten minutes she could no longer contain herself and was eventually ousted from our room as well.
At 4 AM a tremendous thunder storm rolled in. While I was upset to be woken yet again, I can't resist a good storm and proceeded into the living room to curl up in a chair near the windows to watch. After a few rounds of strike and rumble I went to check the children, as Garrett has a love-hate relationship with thunder storms. Both soundly asleep. I headed back to bed. Not long after, I realized that the chattering on the outskirts of my dream was really happening and woke yet again, this time with Garrett standing by our bed desperately trying to tell Troy, at high speed, exactly what was happening (from a meteorological standpoint). I asked if he was scared and he replied, eyes wide as saucers, "Oh no!" and launched into the same high-pitched rapid fire explanation he'd been giving Troy. After telling him to can it (in the politest 4:30 AM way possible), I pulled him into bed between us where he proceeded to wriggle, poke, prod, lean, and push until I escorted him back to bed a short while later. There I found, AGAIN, a wide-awake Morgan-apparently Garrett had neglected to shut the door behind him and she was being visited by our fury assassin once more. Which was nice, because otherwise she'd have missed out on the storm, and who wouldn't want their entire household awake and animatedly talking about lightening at 4:30 in the morning?!?! All except my husband, of course. He has no recollection of any of this.
Back to bed for all, doors shut, kittens ousted, nearly back to sleep, when we are visited by another of our household-Dervish (our oldest and largest) thumped herself down between us (causing us both to bounce lightly) and proceeded to be just as restful as Garrett. Apparently she'd been snug beneath our bed, and I had unwittingly locked her in the room with us.
Maybe not one of my more restful nights.
No comments:
Post a Comment