Dear fuzzbutts who inhabit this house:

I know that you do not all always get along. And I know that some of you feel that you should never have to be forced to interact with each other (Checkers, I am looking at you). And I know that merely having one of the other cats glancing in the general direction to where you are sitting, or going to be sitting soon, or even thinking about maybe sitting one day in the not too distant future, is an abomination unto your sight and must be tattled, immediately, at top volume.

But do you think, quite possibly, you could hold off on that during the hours of, say, midnight to 6am?

Sebastian, did you really need to come careening through the bedroom and halfway up the cat tree – the cat tree upon which Checkers was sitting, mind you – at 12:03 am, hollering at the top of your lungs, and thus triggering a hissfest from Checkers and also from Zucchini, who you nearly bowled over in your haste?

Zucchini, do you and Rosie really need to stage a marathon wrestling event, complete with squeaking and heavy thunking of bodies, directly underneath the bed at 1:47 am?

Azzie, do you really need to whine at the door of the bedroom closet – the *open* door, no less – at 3 in the morning, and then join in the Rosie-Zucchini tussle?

Rosie, do you really need to throw a big hissy fit because someone stepped within two feet of where you are huddling underneath the covers – even though they probably didn’t see you – and then go launching out from under the covers, thereby exposing me to the air that is, at 4am, extremely cold?

Tangerine, I realize that my continued attempts to claim my pillow as actually mine, and not yours, could be seen as laughable, at best, but must you st.age a sneezing, snorfling melt-down two inches from my ear at 4:45 am?

And Checkers. It’s a big bed. Before you came along, it could easily fit half a dozen cats (along with two humans) without anyone having a big hissy fit about it. So at some point, do you think that maybe, just maybe you could try to get over your delicate sensibilities and not stage a yelling fit when you don’t get the whole thing (and me) to your self, not once, but multiple times throughout the night?

Signed,

A very tired, and slightly fed-up human, who spent most of last night lying in bed wondering why she thought it was a good idea to have pets in the first place. Grumble.

PS – Happy 8th Journalversary to me (how fitting that I spend it talking about cats)