It’s 10:30 at night and time for bed. I slip into my oversized T-shirt, my favorite sleepwear, and wonder if I should just sleep au-natural for a change. I know many prefer to sleep naked while others prefer their favorite flannel or sweats that have plagued marriage beds for years. Yet, I sleep alone so my choice matters to no one but myself. Comfort wins the debate. Gently and affectionately I caress the faded image of the angel on the front of my Tee and brush my teeth.
I’m tired and sore. It’s been a long week yet it is only Tuesday. Sigh. I set the TV remote control sleep timer for 1 hour confident I won’t make it more than 5 minute before the sandman joins me.
It’s been a beautiful fall season and the days have been warm allowing me to open the house up to the fresh October breeze. The nights have been chilly prompting to pull my electric blanket from its little plastic storage bag and making my bed with it in place of the light summer comforter.
My mind slowly continues to swirl with the events and happenings of the day as I finish my nightly preparations. Is the house locked up? Did I turn off the stove? Did I set the alarm? As I answer all the questions I begin to anticipate the feel of finally climbing into my warm, welcoming bed to enjoy the night.
I pull back the covers, kick off my shoes and swing my feet underneath the sheets to feel that first delectable sensation of the cool, crisp clean sheets. The sensation is unique to humans alone I am sure, that feeling of climbing into a freshly made bed is a pleasure most understand.
Ahhhh I wriggle, and snuggle to find that one perfect, sweet spot that insures a blissful night of pleasant dreams and wild fantasies.
Feeling a slight chill in the air I roll onto my side to reach for that magic box that controls the electric blanket and I flip the switch. I turn the setting to 6 and wait for the gentle warmth to spread across my slightly aching arthritic joints.
Only a moment passes before I feel the gentle warmth spreading. My back begins to relax as the heat permeates through the day’s tension. The ache in my left knee begins to drift away and my shoulder finally stops stinging with every movement. Thank you God for technology!
As I slowly drift into the abyss, the final joy of this wonderful experience joins me by gently jumping onto my bed and quietly nuzzling my face. My cat L’il Bit has come to rest alongside me tonight. In my cynical moments I think she sleeps with me due to the injury of my shoulder. When it is inflamed it radiates heat that I think she gravitates to merely for her own selfish pleasure. Yet, tonight I think she has joined me simply out of the pleasure she gets from my company.
I lay there snuggled with L’il Bit quietly resting on my aching shoulder. She reflects her own heat back onto my injury reminding me of a heating pad. As I softly scratch her head and chin she begins to purr giving me the sensation of the warm, vibrating pad I use for therapy. Dang, I love this cat!
I sleep through the night with a deep, restful slumber I’ve not enjoyed for a long time. The chill in the room combined with the warmth of my bed and the purring of L’il Bit act as an anesthetic. Very little could have roused me from this slice of heaven.
Slowly I become aware of the sun silently lifting above the treetop in the yard. Birds are beginning to chirp and sing, welcoming the new day. I yawn and stretch feeling for the cool spot at the foot of the bed that for some reason the blanket doesn’t quite reach. Brrrr, found it. I quickly roll onto my side and snuggle with L’il Bit wanting to drift back into the warmth and comfort of sleep.
Sadly just as life cycles, most joyful experiences also have an ebb to the tide. As I lay there wrapped in the cocoon of blankets and warmth L’il Bit begins to awaken as well. She begins to stretch, then opens her mouth in a wide, long yawn. Good Lord I think to myself. I need to invest in some kind of dental care for this cat. Limburger cheese came to mind. Phew!
She rolls over to face me and I bury my face in her neck to give her a nuzzle when I am overcome by an odor emanating from her backside that is reminiscent of the year my refrigerator broke down while I was gone. The stench upon opening that fridge was nothing compared to the Dutch-oven my little feline had encased me in.
Gagging horrendously I try to remove myself from the trap I had unwittingly created when she decided that all this movement was fun. Out came 20 needle-like claws to capture, torment and play with the prey she had found.
I finally emerged from my blissful night of sleep slightly green, scratched and bleeding from the thousands of pin pricks inflicted by my little bundle of fur to face a new day. She stares at me curiously wondering why she hasn’t heard the enticing sound of the can opener as I write this. I begrudgingly stare back.
I quickly begin to move however, as another round of toxic odor begins wafting my way from this tiny weapon. Today I resolve to switch the brand of cat food I am feeding this little girl! Preferably nothing with FISH!