Free cat to bad home
My cat knows I’m an insomniac and she thinks it’s funny
It’s been nearly three days since I last slept. Or has it been four?
In either case, my cat is a jerk.
I’ve probably complained about her before.
This is my second week working on staff at the illustrious Weekly Alibi. The first week, I was deathly ill. That’s just my luck.
This week, I have been, without fail, stirred from restless sleep by the pitter patter of clawed paws raking my face. There is also the whiskers-in-the-nose face rub and the dreaded nose bite.
The cat also bites my feet and howls like a banshee if I stall.
She eats breakfast at 3:30 a.m. I will feed her. She demands it. She apparently eats again at 6:30 a.m. and meaningless torture commences at 7:30 a.m. I am usually crying by 8 a.m.
I have taken to flinging her from the bed, hoping that the threat of bodily injury will spark some sort of survival instinct in the reptilian brain of hers. I usually feel guilty about this. I don’t actually want to hurt the kitty as I am a 250 pound galoot; I only want sleep, precious, little sleep.
