Oh, some nights I conk out quite easily and sleep really deeply and well, though this is usually when my husband is home and I've popped a couple of Benadryl.
Sometimes I'm awakened ever so gently by this guy snuggling up on the pillow next to my head, purring sweet lullabies in my ear.
Other times, I'm rudely awakened by a tiger pulling my hair - hard.
Elmer will pull until I finally stumble out of bed and feed him.
This lovely little lady usually sleeps on my feet all night. This doesn't really bother me, as I've grown used to it over the past 8 years. But Fern is a nibbler, and an emotional eater, and most nights, usually between 2-4, she awakens from a stressful dream and simply must have food.
Now.
Fern doesn't poke or prod me, however. She has a knack for finding crinkly things - a magazine on the floor, perhaps a kleenex box, or a pile of books, and she rattles them.
Scratches at them.
Paws and mauls them.
Until finally, I stumble out of bed, go to the food bowls, and feed her.
The main problem I have with these two is that usually the food bowls aren't even empty.
They don't bother to check first, but need just a couple pieces of fresh crunchy added to the top.
I think they're testing me to see if I really do love them.
Many people have suggested shutting the cats in the basement or at least closing my bedroom door. But I love the snuggling and the purring, and besides, Fern's crying sounds just like a baby - something I cannot ignore.
There's also the small matter of adding a litterbox in the basement, and you know, we already have 9 litter boxes and I just don't want any more.
Also, there was a small incident a couple of years ago when the cats had access to the basement. We never determined who was to blame, but let's just say I don't want to clean up a mess like that again!
Then there's this character.
Wally never used to be a problem at night, but now he's an old man.
And everybody knows old men need to pee a lot.
And I mean every few hours.
We take him out multiple times each evening and try to have the last time be at least 10 p.m., but long about 4-ish, Wally feels the call of nature.
Let me tell you, it must be a siren song, because there is no denying it.
Wally has these little tiny feet at the end of his long, skinny legs, and even when his claws are properly trimmed, his prancing up and down the hall sounds just like tap-dancing. I know it would be better if I'd just get right up and take him out, but usually by this time, I've been up a time or two already and am desperately clinging to the hope that he'll settle down for just another hour or so.
Which means there's a good 15-20 minutes of tap-dancing up and down the hall, in and out of my room, and even down the stairs and back up again.
Why don't I just kennel him?
Well, Wally was kennel trained when a puppy, but it's been years now since he's been in a kennel, and I think it would freak him out, especially now that one of his medications causes anxiety.
And thirst.
Now, if I'm really lucky, I can either sneak him outside quickly and get back to bed without waking up this character.
Yep.
Because when this guy wakes up, my day has officially started.
Even if it's 4:30 a.m.
Gus is only 8 months old, and honestly, I treat him more like a baby than the sweet, adorable, little Gussie-wussie... ahem, you see what I mean.
So, if Gus awakens, it's outside we go, which is a bit of a process, as he wants to stop and sniff every little scent along the way. Plus, basset hounds are not known for their stair-climbing proficiency.
So, this morning, at the insistence of my very patient daughters, I decided Gus would just have to go back in his kennel until I wanted to get up. Good for me, right? I could go back to bed and get a couple more hours of shut-eye.
Except for one small thing.
When a puppy has been treated like a baby, the puppy acts like a baby.
And Gus was not happy to be alone in the dark when it was morning, for goodness sake.
So, he howled.
He howled in that most desperately mournful way only a hound dog can howl.
For two hours.
Straight.
So, last night, between the hair-pulling, the tap-dancing, paper-rattling, and singing, I did get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.
And people wonder why I nap.
Oh, and in case you're wondering: no, the sun is not yet up at 4:30.
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