Someone's been sleeping in my bed...

The somewhat-less-pointless-than-usual photo to the left is of the bed that I use when I'm here at my father's place. Yes, I'll admit that the quilt is fairly ugly; it's warm, though, and that's what counts.

The quilt isn't the reason for the photo's appearance on the blog anyway. So, having said that, let's all agree to ignore the quilt for now.

Everyone ignoring the quilt?

Sorry, that's a bit like saying "pretend you don't notice the wart on that guy's nose," isn't it? After someone says something like that, you can't help but notice the nose wart.

Anyway. The quilt. Not important. Let's move on.

What is important is what's lurking under the quilt. Under the quilt AND under the comforter, just to make things that much more annoying. Ready for the unveiling?

Are you sure?


Ta da.

Wakey wakey, Max.

Now, all of my two fans who own cats (and probably one or two who don't) are wondering what the big deal is about a cat under a quilt (and a comforter). Cats are infamous for doing that sort of thing.

Well, there are a few problems with this scene.

Number one is that he doesn't usually get to sleep in that room. The door's closed for most of the week, and even if it's open the bedding's not available because the bed's a convertible and I strip it and fold it up before I leave.

Number two is that he does usually get to sleep in my father's room, but when he does he never burrows under the bedclothes. This burrowing thing seems to be a pretty recent habit, and one that he saves for JUST MY BED.

Number three is that I'm allergic to cats. Not too seriously -- antihistamines usually take care of most of problem number three when I'm here -- but I'm allergic all the same. Max's new habit of sleeping under my covers is, frankly, a pain because of the allergy. I'd be fine if he'd only sleep on TOP of the covers, but apparently that's not enough for Smack the Cat anymore.

No, I don't smack the cat. He gets called that pretty regularly, however. That and a few other things.

It's sort of awkward at times being allergic to cats but still liking them. I'm not going to say no to any cat who wants to be my buddy, but then I have to put up with the runny eyes, the sneezing, and the itching that results from a visit with a strange cat (I know, I know. Aren't all cats strange in some way?). I can acclimatise not too badly to cats if I'm around them for any length of time, but a chance encounter (and have you ever noticed that cats have a knack for seeking out the one person in the room who's allergic?) is always going to leave me feeling lousy.

Kind of like going to bed and finding a cat nest in my sheets.

Ah well. If it bothered me that much I suppose I'd remember to close the door more often when I'm here, and it's obvious from the photos that I don't. He generally shows up first thing in the morning to cuddle anyway (after he's spent the night with my dad), so there's always going to be a certain amount of cat hair in the bed no matter what I do (and as to why I don't just close the door at night... well, the pain in the ass clever cat knows that if he sticks his paw under the door and scratches, I'll let him in just to get the noise to stop).

My pillow gets put in the closet during the day, if anyone wondered (and if you did... why?), so at least I don't have a total face full of cat hair when I go to sleep.

Gotta be thankful for the small mercies when a cat like Max likes you (and your bed), I suppose.






I need to go fold towels now. Let's hope that they're relatively cat-hair-free...