For the past week, my husband, daughter and I have suffered through some sleepless nights. We have been plagued by a unique insomnia-inducer that is probably unique to my family: our cat keeps falling out of the window.
Okay, okay, I’ve seen the video shows and I know that cats do fall off things. However, this cat falls out of the window upwards of ten times a night. She’s what you’d call unique because the words that more aptly describe her are not nice to say in public.
Let me set the situation up for you.
Its evening and the cat has been busy sleeping. She’s ready for bed and frankly so are we. We’ve fished her out of the space between the sofa and the windowsill a few times, propped her back up on the windowsill because she’s totally horizontal on the top of the couch and listened to her either snoring or licking herself since before the evening news. We are all ready for bed. It’s been a busy time for the cat. Lick, sleep, fall, get rescued. Repeat.
And we have no frickin idea what she does during the day. I’m guessing, based on my research of what she does all damn night, she falls out of the window. But hey, I’m no scientist, what the hell do I know?
So we signal we’re going to bed. “Hey, we’re going to bed.” Which is my son’s clue that he can watch the big screen. It’s the Shit-zuh’s clue that she has to pee and the it’s the labrador’s clue to wiggle and knock my knee out of joint. But s’all good. I’m going to bed.
I tuck my daughter in and like a stalking victim I nervously check the bedroom windowsill. No cat. Dammit! That means the dumb thing’s in my room. I creep in my bedroom and what is perched on the high window beside my side of the bed? A freaky six-toed, long haired narcoleptic cat!
Maybe this night will be different, I lie to myself. Maybe the cat will finally learn to sleep on the bed or in the closet or on the front porch. Maybe I won’t be woken up every 20 minutes to a huge crash, the lamp hitting the floor and the thud of a sleeping cat hitting the mattress, the night stand or the floor. Maybe.
So for the entire night, for several nights, the cat falls off the windowsill. Many times. It’s broken the lamp and has shattered my nerves. I’ve got shell shock because I know that one of these times the bastardly thing is going to fall on top of me and rip my face to shreds. I kinda like my face. I really don’t like pain. So it’s a series of: crash! Thump! “Argh!” Dive for cover! “Get that goddamn cat outta here!” And then it’s back to sleep for 20 minutes to repeat the cycle.
And really, how is this even possible? It’s a cat for God’s sake. Where’s the cat-like reflexes? Where’s the landing on your feet? This cat honestly falls asleep and falls off a windowsill! There’s no other way to describe it. This can’t be good for the cat’s physical health. And it speaks volumes on its mental capacity. I mean even laboratory rats can be taught not to touch the red button or it gets shocked. This cat is the epitome of insane: it does the same thing over and over again and expects a different outcome. Newsflash cat: You’re gonna fall out of the damn window. Repeatedly. Much to my displeasure.
Finally, after a week of cat-astrophies (like you didn’t think I’d get that in), I finally trained the cat to sleep someplace else. Breakthrough! It now sleeps on me, from my shoulder to almost my thigh. It’s pretty good at it too. When I roll, it does like the log-roll thing and hangs tight. Oh sure, there’s a downside. I dream that there’s something compressing me almost every night: rocks, a tree, an SUV. It occasionally licks my dear husband who swats at it which makes it take off using my arm for traction. And it snores in my ear. Whatever made me thing this was the better alternative, I’m really not sure. But who knows, maybe next week, I teach it to sleep with my son!