Sort Of About The Psycho One…Mostly About Me

Last night, I crawled into bed and watched TV for a little bit, and when I turned it off I was asleep in less than 10 seconds, I think. I slept deeply—and comfortably—until 4:45 when I woke to the feel of whiskers against my face.

I didn’t mind being woken up; Max’s meower seems to be broken and he can only get tiny mews and squeaks out, and he wanted me to know he was there and wanted to be touched. He was quite the VelcroKitty yesterday, taking long naps on my lap, making sure I was where he could see me, so when he woke me I just reached out a hand and petted him until he curled up beside my head. He stayed there until a little after 7 this morning, my hand resting on his back, when he heard the Spouse Thingy come in.

Screw me, there was a chance for food with the Spouse Thingy. (His appetite is back in full force; he’ll eat all the wet food he can stomach. Dry food, not so much, but I think his throat is sore.)

But the thing is—I slept soundly. I’ve been blaming the new bed for my tossing and turning and aching back when I get up, but after Max made a quick turn for the better, it was like my body just went “Ok. You can relax now.”

I have Mommy Ears. When the Boy was little, I slept with one ear open and could be instantly awake if he made so much as a squeak that was out of place. I suspect that for this last week, that ear has been listening all night for the sounds of kitty choking and vomiting.

And like when the Boy became old enough to come get me if he needed me at night, last night I was able to relax because my snarky little furball is well enough to let me know if he needs something at night, even if it’s just a reassuring hand on his back.

So, instead of obsessing about the cat—he’s at about 75-80% I think—I can start a new obsession. Like, is the bed any good or not?

We shall see.

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