You've heard of the Witching Hour, right? It's that time when all of the evil creatures come out of hiding to cause trouble. According to folklore (and wikipedia), it's either midnight or 1:00 am (perhaps 3:00 am?). At my house, we have the "Magic Hour." The Magic Hour begins at 4:00 am with quiet rustling, chirping and floppy feet padding across the living room floor. At precisely 4:02, the Magic Hour goes into full-force with HOWLING like you have never heard. And the knocking at the door! DEAR GOD! BANG, BANG, BANG! "MROW! MROOOOOW!" Shut up! *tears*
Our bedroom door doesn't quite close. Well, actually, it does. It just doesn't latch. So, to keep Magic out of the bedroom, we've been wedging a shoe under the door. Mystic couldn't open the door when we blocked it with something light (she's tiny), but this jack-rabbit-footed New Cat could probably crack a safe. He's so savvy. It's really made me wonder about his previous life.
So I'm awake. Who could sleep through that? I kick the Targo and ask him to open the door. Thus continues the ritual. It's now 4:10. New Cat jumps on the bed and talks to us for a good five minutes. The Targo is already sleeping. I'm muttering, "No lay down. No. OH! My bladder!" New cat finally settles contentedly on my chest, purring (really loudly). Then comes the licking. He loves to lick. It's gross enough - I know where that tongue's been - but add to the fact he has really horrendous breath and really wet licks. I want to vomit. Instead I blow in his face repeatedly, which just shifts the licks to another location: my ear, my neck, my elbow. Then comes the nesting. When the sloppy, stinky licks are through he has to get all comfy. Usually right on my bladder. Then he has to chase Mystic. And she has to growl. Then it's suddenly 5:00 and my alarm is going to go off in 20 minutes and I cry.
This has been a fairly persistent pattern for the past four months. Common sense says "just let him in the bedroom before you go to bed." Yeah, well, did I mention the licking? And the fact that he and Mystic are really fighting right now? A lot.
I just keep praying that this is a test, some preparation for being a new parent at some point in the future. Maybe God is saying "You know, sleep is so overrated! If you're willing to get only 4-5 hours of sleep at night for a cat, just think what you'd be willing to do for a child." Yeah, that's all fine and dandy, but good gravy, I'm tired. I'm not sure the Dunkin' Donuts coffee as big as my head is going to cut it.