The way it typically works around here is that my husband gets up for work, leaving the house around 6am, and then I sleep until the T9 awakes or Plus One comes barreling down the hall with his heavy-footed jog. Blankies in hand. (And mouth.)
But my husband didn't have to be in until late yesterday, and the whole house seemed to be catching some extra sleep. Maybe it was because I didn't hear him milling about in his morning ritual that I was so deeply asleep at 6:30 that morning. Because when I felt a nudge around my hips, I reflexively nudged back. Fucking cats are always climbing on me ALL NIGHT LONG. Last night, for example, Fluffy Shit woke me up LICKING HER PAWS in my mothergrabbing FACE.
(I'm guessing this was some sort of kitty threat.)
(Fluffy Shit: FUCKING LICK FUCKING MEOW--WATCH YOUR BACK MEOW.)
Anyway, I growled quietly and kneed the perpetrator enough--I thought--that she'd jump back off the bed. This didn't happen.
So I nudged again.
Suddenly there was wailing in the bedroom. Startled, I propped myself up on an elbow.
Me: "Plus One?"
Plus One: "WAAHHHHH [REJECTION! MY MOTHER JUST KNEED ME! MY INNOCENCE IS GONE!]"
Me: [Under my breath.] "Oh, shit....Buddy, I thought you were the cat!"
I scooped him up and hugged the crap out of him, trying to squeeze out the rejection and tears.
Later that morning, when my husband arose, he asked me what had happened, why he had been woken with a growl, followed by a thump, followed by a wail.
Me: [Meekly.] "I thought Plus One was that cat."
The Hub: "You kicked him out of BED?!"
The Hub: "This all goes to show you that you just need to be nicer to those cats."
I scowled. It rather seems to be perfect evidence that they need to be destroyed.
Look out, Fluffy Shit. [Licks hand.]