I am cradled in the arms of Morpheus, fast asleep, enjoying my favorite dream. I am surrounded by a bevy of scantily clad supermodels. If this is a dream I wonder why they’re scantily clad . There are no rules to a dream so shouldn’t they be completely UN-clad.
Surely it’s acceptable to be frolicking with naked supermodels if it’s a dream. That’s not cheating? Right? Right?
(Maybe I need professional dream interpretation help.) In the midst of my pathetically chaste dream I hear a rumbling and hacking rising from deep within my subconscious. I wonder if one of my still not nude supermodels is about to lose her lunch because she now realizes who her fellow frolicker is. Maybe this is actually her dream and she’ll wake up and tell her friends about the nightmare she had.
(My slightly sick imagination pictures this conversation between Adriana Lima and Milla Jovovich while they are having a pillow fight.) Sorry, back to the topic now…
So I hear this rumbling, hacking, guttural sound mere inches from my head. I awaken just as one of our sweet and loving cats hurls what appears to be several days of worth of animal by-product and tuna bits onto my pillow. The warm, piquant liquid cascades across my pillow.
My question for you is this: What would a sane, normal, well-adjusted person do in this situation?
I have no idea what one of those people would do. My reaction was to sigh and flip my pillow over so the wet side was down, then fall back to sleep. Satisfied that he has made his point, the cat slips off the bed in search of another victim. It was not until later in the day, after the bed linens had been changed, that it occurred to me that this was not normal. It was abnormal. I am abnormal. What IS abnormal? I checked with dictionary.com who informed me that…
ab·nor·mal [ab-nawr-muhl] 1.} not normal, average, typical, or usual; deviating from a standard: abnormal behavior.
When did I start the slide from normal to ab?
I used to be normal, then I met my wife. She had two cats. A lot of people have a couple of cats. It’s normal. But I grew up on a farm and I come from simple folk. Our simple folk have a simple rule on the farm. The animals live outside and the people live inside of the “house.” The animals have places to live of their own. My people called these special animal habitats – “the barn.”
Fast forward and I am living with future wife in her “house.” There are two animals living in her house and I explain to her my family’s simple farm rules that have been passed down through the generations. She gives me the “look.” Oh, I hate the “look.” She calmly explains that: (A) This is not a farm. (B) She owns the house. (C) These are not animals, they are her cats who are members of the household and finally (D) They were here first. I told her that I completely understood her views but that she would have to make a decision. It was either me or the cats.
So… she helped me pack.
Fast forward twenty really looong years and I’m sleeping on a pillow that is really wet on the bottom. I’m resting to the same delightful love who helped me move out those many long years ago. (I moved back)
We no longer have two cats though. I made myself clear that I wasn’t living in a house with TWO CATS. After all I am a man. The man of the house. Whose word is law! We now have maybe 5 or 7 cats living in the house. I don’t know really. I don’t count them. That’s just depressing. But by god we don’t have TWO CATS! I know that for sure! I told her I did!
This post is getting long and I know you’re getting bored… but one last endearing anecdote. One cat we brought in was a small scared feral kitten who had some sad ass story or another. Anyway I was trying to calm the tiny angel when it sunk it’s angelic little teeth into my hand all the way to the bone. I carefully pried it’s sweet carnivorous jaws off of my wrist as I didn’t want any of the arterial spray from my hand to get into its precious fur. My wife came up to me, assessed the situation and said lovingly, “You’re getting blood all over the floor.”
You wonder why I’m abnormal??
It’s time for you to share now? Do you have a “it’s me or the dog story?” Have you dated a crazy cat lady” Are YOU a crazy cat lady who’s pissed at me for using the term crazy cat lady? Leave your thoughts in the comments section and help me please not feel so all alone….
Do you really dream about scantily clad supermodels? For me it’s usually some sort of high-tech netherworld of dimly illuminated halls, labrythine stairsand ornate towers, with the occasional odd and vaguely menacing electro-mechanical device.
I think we both need some help! Actually I don’t know how this published because it’s a draft I am working on and somehow it went out. It’s weird because from my side it shows not published yet!! Well hope you enjoyed it and come back when I’ve got the pictures added. Also try to dream a little more fun!
I think you’re normal living in an abnormal world. And by the way, I NEVER dream of scantily clad supermodels!
That’s what my therapist says, too. (about both of your comments, actually) Thanks so much for your comment.
Does your wife get to post her side of the story?? 🙂
She has now.
Oh, there are SO many facets to my side of the story!! Alan neglected to mention that the same cat who barfed on his pillow gets more goodnight kisses at night than I do. This same cat has chronic runny eyes due to a serious illness as a kitten, and he uses his own handkerchief to wipe her face. Oh, and he didn’t mention that he blows “tummy bubbles” on another kitty (who tolerates it, amazingly enough!). Or that another cat likes to cuddle up next to him and suck on his ear lobe, which he (Alan) seems to enjoy at least until she starts to use her teeth.
BTW, the “You’re getting blood all over the floor” story is mostly true. Amazing how long some men can hold a grudge.
Debbie seems to ramble when she’s taking her “medication.” I’m not sure what she’s referring to. Now you can see why I’m like I am.
I sometimes dream that I’m running, maybe I’m trying to get away from the scantily clad super models. So, we have an 80 lb neurotic yellow lab with separation anxiety who sheds like a porcupine throwing his quills when he gets nervous and we thought it would be smart to get two hyperactive shelties to add to the fun. Sometimes the yellow lab yacks his supper and that’s why we won’t let him sleep on the bed. But I know that cats can’t hear when you say “off”, so you can’t keep them off the bed or any furniture when they want to yack. When Rudy is feeling defiant and jumps on the bed anyway he gets between us and tries to push me out. There ya go.
Beautiful imagery Marge. Yacking dog pushing you out of bed. What more could you want out of life.
Debbie – thank you for clearing this up and telling the ‘other side of the story’ 🙂
This story is So very entertaining! Who got the job of changing the sheets? 🙂
We have a pretty simple system to decide who does that. Whoever is the barfee (the person barfed upon) doesn’t have to do the cleanup because they’ve been through enough trauma. So it ends up that Debbie always changes the sheets. The cat’s nickname for me is “target”.
I suffered a similar situation, only the cat was perched on the cat tree 3 feet above my head and I managed to sit up from a dead sleep right before the barf hit my pillow where my head was. I pulled the pillowcase off the pillow, chucked everything onto the floor, grabbed a new pillow and went right back to sleep.
You truly are a cat owner! Toss the debris to the floor and back to sleep.
Haha, great post. The whole time reading it I wondered if Sara from Lifewith4Cats had seen it and sure enough her picture showed up in the comments! My uncle has it a similar way, and they’re up to six now. But lucky for him, his son just had a baby who has a lung problem, and they’re moving in with my uncle. Now he gets his wish of moving the cats outside 😉
My favorite line in all of this was your wife saying they were there first… lol.
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I have read 2 post of yours and both are delightful 🙂
Give your wife a high-five for me because pets always win over men 😉 … and now she had turned you into cat-lover …. hehehe she won!!!
@Kame and Kroten, I was tempted to edit out the part that says, “she won” but in the interest of fairness I left it in. Everybody knows the woman always wins anyway. Thanks for visiting.
I am glad I have found you Alan (thanks Sara). As one who has married a cat woman (we now have twelve), I can totally relate.
spiderpaw, Thanks for stopping by, We brothers in cats need to stick together before we are covered in litter.