Thursday, February 18, 2010

Midnight Pye

I adore Cats.  Specifically, I love Pyewackit.  I love her long soft fur, her soft belly and the way it feels on my nose.  I love her coloring, the light warm tones deepening into black legs and face.  I am entranced by her predator stare . . .  she measures, calculates, and misses nothing in her observations.  I love her crossed eyes as she delicately licks a Chocolate Creamie.  I am bewitched that such lethal claws, teeth, and athleticism is cloaked in the ultimate in grace, elegance, and softness.  Her former life as royalty has not been forgotten.   Everyone and everything exists for her personal benefit.  She daintily hops on the table and we all run to get her a glass half filled of water so she can dip her paws then lick them off.  I exult when she deigns to rub my legs or very rarely to sit by me.  When she was a wild, frightened kitten, I spent hours sitting quietly in the garage to gain her trust.  Now I am rewarded by her complete confidence.  So complete she will not move off a chair when someone goes to sit down, so certain she is of her right to be anywhere she wants.

Pye is a cat of specific habits and tastes.  She allows pets at certain times and in certain places.  Mainly, while she eats, and second, when she gets lonely in the middle of the night.   Understandably, when she jumps up on my bed in the middle of the night, I wake and instantly move to give the object of my adoration the most comfortable position possible.  In truth, I stay awake for hours, petting her neck, or holding her paws, listening to her purr, taking advantage of this rare privilege.  I don't dare tell Briz why I am so tired night after night.  How could I explain my addiction?

A month ago, Pyewackit made a new habit.  When I leave the comfort of my bed in the middle of the night she hears me and comes.   While I sit quietly in the dark, on the toilet, she lands in one velvety leap on my lap, lies down and begins to purr.  Now, this is joy beyond measure.  Nowhere else will she sit on anyone's lap.  So night after night, we keep our guilty bathroom ritual.  I sit till I am numb and nodding before sadly removing my furry friend and creeping back to bed.

The other night, I had been sitting for some time, with Pye when I heard Briz stir.  I knew he was coming to use my chair.  But I couldn't disturb my buddy.  I sat quietly and prayed he would go to another bathroom so we would not get urinated on in the dark.  I heard him rustling less than one foot away from us.  The light flashed on.  Briz wildly jumped three inches in the air and yelped as four shiny eyes calmly stared back at him. We stared each other down for a few minutes while he processed the scene.  Finally he ordered with disgust, "Get off!"  I meekly shooed off my friend and went to wait in bed for my punishment.  Five minutes later, the bed behind me shook with suppressed laughter.  "How long have you been in there?  No wonder you are always so tired."  He shook his head with resignation over sharing his bed with such a lunatic and kissed my forehead.  "Now, go to sleep before I ground you and Pyewackit."

We obeyed.  And I have tried to do better some of the time.   But, her fur is so soft, and her purr is so comforting, and truly, she is quite a conquest, even if she is a user.   And at least I no longer carry cats around in my shirt against my skin.


  1. aren't you allergic to cats? I can only imagine opening the bathroom door to such a sight! It's making me laugh just thinking of your husband groggily opening the door to find you sitting there with a cat on your lap! It is a darling cat though, we always had cats around when I was little but none as beautiful as pye!

  2. awww . . . i want one!!! i want the soft velvet up my shirt and against my skin. i can remember the little fuzzy abandoned kittens whom i bathed, bottle-fed and fuzzed - i had to give them away, and the ones i couldnt . . . got killed. and then there was lynelle. mom and i felt for her as you do for pyewakit.
    however, i could see you sitting there as "four shiny eyes calmly stared back at [briz]." i saw you sitting there with your innocent eyes wide and green and a little guilty smothered smile. i saw your eyebrows lifted and your forehead wrinkled. oh you looked soo innocent as you slipped into bed just as a little child might - when, once in bed, the cover are snug right up to chin, a hand on either side. hehe . . . he

  3. You paint such delightful pictures for your readers' eyes; I was easily drawn in to your late night guilty pleasure! ...