Catnap

This post is barely a post. It's more of a thought, which has taken on a life of its own. At one point, it could've been a tweet, but it's bigger than Twitter now. It occupies a significant amount of space in my brain, and needs to be set free in blog form.

I am jealous of my cat. I'm jealous of his ability to indulge so heedlessly, so capriciously in the one thing that has become a luxury in my life. He gets to sleep.

I don't get enough sleep. I do, however, have ample opportunity to contemplate and covet the sleeping habits and proclivities of my cat.

My cat's resting world seems as active as his waking one. I see his ears and nose twitch. I wonder what he's dreaming about: sitting at the window and watching birds fly by, running away from Claire as she tries to pull his tail, tuna fish. Sometimes, he half wakes up from his dream about tuna fish. Eyes like slits, he yawns with abandon and lazily repositions himself for another stint on the couch. He may have just enough energy to get one long sweep of the tongue down his backside before he's sleeping again. His brief time awake seems to really tire him out.

I've actually tried to amuse myself by attempting to wake him up. I figure misery loves company. Claire gets out the maracas. I'll bang them extra loud with her and watch, as he opens one eye, disoriented and confused. I'll softly lob small plastic toy pieces at his chair, while he's in repose on his favorite pillow (animal lovers: don't worry; I have a really bad aim, on purpose).

He has amazing adaptive abilities. He's learned to ignore my interruptions. He has turned resting into an art form, taken it to a whole new level of Zen. Sometimes, a small plastic toy piece will land on him, and he won't even notice (I lied. Sometimes, they hit him).

The Sensei of Sleep, really. If I weren't so incensed, I'd probably be in awe of his masterful ability to so unabashedly embrace slumber.

But my cat has betrayed me. We used to sleep together, snuggle up on the couch for a snooze. Distant memories, now. He seems to have forgotten our good ol' days altogether.

One day, we will find our way back to one another. I can only hope, because I certainly ain't doing much dreaming…


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