Like most cats, Mycah hardly ever sleeps: only when she's not pooping or begging for food.

On rare occasions (perhaps six nights a week) she will decide to join me on the bed when I hit the rack. I suppose she thinks herself justified in doing so. After all, once I'm supine, she pretty much has a captive audience.

Well, not so much the audience part. She takes advantage of my recent immobility to demand — not request, but demand — skritches. She's even figured out where to position herself so that she's within arm's reach, at the right distance for effective skritch reception. Such a schemer, she is.

I am willing to deliver the skritches, but that's not the point, not at all. She is using me, just as she expects to be fed and watered and to have her poop scooped. Such a needy kitty.

And of course, a sleeping victim is so much easier to dispatch... which I have no doubt she'll do to me, once she figures out how to use can openers and poop scoopers on her own.

"Bad kitty! No homicide! Bad!" Naaaah, it's no use. Cats don't listen.

No one in my family believed that a cat would possibly spend time on something as comfortable as a Sealy Posturepedic (nature's Stoics, they are, preferring hard tile floors and the like) even when presented with evidence in the form of a Hefty bag full of cat hair collected from my sheets over the course of a week. I therefore cleverly left my camera on the nightstand, hoping to ambush my nocturnal nemesis.

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Busted.

I'll give her this much, though: at least she doesn't try to steal the covers.

The Friday Ark is ready for boarding.

The Carnival of the Cats is coming soon, to Life from a Cat's Perspective.

Posted by Russ at 03:29 AM, August 3, 2007 in Animals