Cat on the bed

For ten years it’s been the same thing. I get into bed at night to read. Stella joins me on the bed. Ignoring the completely empty half of the bed, she takes up position on the six inches on the other side, between me and the edge of the bed. Sometimes she stretches herself out on my legs, but mostly it’s the side of the bed. If I needed to pee, I edged my way out the other side of the bed so as not to disturb her, then edged my way back in. Somehow, even though I might have peed before, she always knew when I was getting ready for my last pee before lights out and as soon as I started to move, she hopped off the bed and went elsewhere to settle for the night. (Roxie, when she was with us, understood that half the bed was vacant and claimed it as her own.)

Not last night. Last night seemed to be the same routine, but, after lights out and just as I was drifting off to sleep, Stella returned to the bed. Not to claim the other side of the bed nor the space between me and the side of the bed, no. Last night she got on the bed and sat on my back. She doesn’t weigh that much, but it was enough, when she was just sitting there, to make me wide awake again. I gently rolled her off my back, gave her several strokes. She then seemed willing to settle at the top of the bed beside the pillows. Well, I thought, that’s nice. Stella on the bed with me at night. Then, just as I was once again about to drift off, she changed her mind. Back on my back, this time stretched out. Okay, at least her weight was distributed, but I was once again fully awake. 

Gave up, rolled over, turned the light back on and read another chapter of my book, Stella stretched out on my legs. Got up for another pee. As usual, Stella departed. Turned light off. Just as I was once again drifting off to sleep she was back on my back. 

I was a bit disappointed when Stella came into my life that she showed no interest in sleeping on the bed with me nor, although she would curl up beside me on the sofa when I was watching television, would she ever get on my lap. Truth be told this played some role in me agreeing to adopt thirteen-year-old rescue Roxie. Roxie was definitely a lap cat. It took six years – and Roxie’s death – for Stella to get on my lap. I swear she decided she’d better up her game or I’d bring in another rival.

I did eventually get her off my back last night, long enough to finally get to sleep. When I woke up this morning I was on my side and so was Stella.

I guess that’s cats. All or nothing.

I just hope this isn’t going to turn into the new normal.