Otis on top of the cupboard

Otis is the alpha creature of this household because he's incredibly annoying and pushes all our buttons until gets *exactly* what he wants. Occasionally, I rather fecklessly try to defy him. Today was one of those days.

Otis' dad took his human big sister out for a walk. He said that I, a sleep-deprived insomniac mother of two little kids, needed a nap to "improve my mood." Hmpf. I dutifully crawled into bed, mind whirring a million miles a minute. I desperately wanted to feel like June Cleaver. Aha - a pleasant distraction I thought as Otis popped up on the bed. He tapped me on the shoulder and I obediently lifted up the covers so he could come and snuggle. I had become The Designated Body Warmer, no other kitty dared come near. Oh no, I thought with horror as sweet Chester brazenly jumped up on the bed hoping to snuggle with us, doesn't he know better? He presented himself head down for subservient grooming and tried to lower himself casually into snuggle position. He got the paw and moved away to the end of the bed. This kind of rubbed me the wrong way. Otis wasn't finished though and wrestled with Chester until he retreated right out of the room entirely. This *really* rubbed me the wrong way. I sat up, told him what a small-minded selfish little sh*t he was and then dared to do what he has done to me a million times before. I grabbed the covers and turned my back on him. The battle lines were drawn.

He came over and patted me on the shoulder. I didn't budge. He retracted a claw and scratched me on the forehead. I yelled but didn't budge. He walked out of the room straight to the jackpot - the sleeping baby's room. He started yowling like a banshee and scratching at the door. The sleep-deprived insomniac wanted the cat to let the sleeping baby lie. "Otis, you little $#@!, you get the $#@! away from Sam's room this instant". He complied. He walked to pantry, right by the baby's room, and started to open the closet. Scratch, scratch, crash as the cans fall to the floor. This was his signal that he wanted to eat wet food mixed with warm water.

Why didn't I just do it? Instead, I locked him the basement. Like that helped. He strategically positioned himself under Sam's room and practiced his imitation of a cat fight. "BRROOWWWWW, MIAOOOOOOOW, YOWEEEEEEEE, YIPEEEEEEEEEE, WAKE UP SAM!!!". Grrrrr. Still defiant I grabbed his highness and told him that I didn't care how cold it was outside and how thin his beautiful silky fur was, but he was going O-U-T, OUT.

Maybe I don't give him enough credit for actually being smart. He walked around to the front of the house and let loose with the same recital, right under Sam's window. I used to have unusually low blood pressure I thought, as my chest tightened.

Me: tap the can, let him in, mix the food with warm water, and retreat to bed, leaving the door open so that Otis can come and go as he pleases. Otis arrives, taps me on the shoulder, and I let him under the covers. I lie there awkwardly until Fred comes home. "Did you have a good nap?" Me: "Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" Fred: "Man, you have *got* to get more sleep".

Copyright © Susan Mawdsley
January 29, 2001