Insomnia can kiss my …

So, it’s 2:30 in the morning, and what am I doing?  I’m on my blog.   Why?  Because my cat is a sadist hired by the russians to keep me awake at night, that’s why.  Here’s the stitch:

We have 2 dogs (Dante + Nero) and 2 cats (Mokka + Lance).  Nero (dog) and Mokka (cat) are absolute best friends, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Nero

Mokka

They will do everything together, play, sleep, cuddle, watch TV, wander through the house, you name it. These two are peanut butter and jelly, Bonnie and Clyde, Turner and Hooch, Milo and Otis, you get the idea.

Mokka and Nero napping

Nero likes to sleep next to me in our bedroom most nights, as a matter of fact, that orange-ish colored blanket he’s sitting in front of?  That’s my spare, that lives right next to the bed.  I really try not to overthink the fact that he sits there at night staring at me.  It’s creepy, I know.  But I digress.  Mokka will come into our bedroom at all hours of the night, wanting to play with Nero.  Fun fact about cats; they are nocturnal.  Not so fun fact about dogs; they aren’t.

So, Mokka will stroll into our bedroom sometime between 2:00 and 4:00 in the AM, looking for his absolute-best-friend-in-the-world.  Unfortunately, his absolute-best-friend-in-the-world is not as receptive to the idea of being awake that late and has the patience of a monk, so he’ll continue to lay in this little ball on the floor, as the cat paces around him, singing louder and louder.  Once he hits a particularly loud point, a pillow, water bottle, balled up pair of socks, etc. is typically thrown at him, along with a muttered curse of “MOKKA!”

Lately, Nero has been sleeping in the second bedroom, where his and Dante’s kennels are located.  This is where the fun really starts.  Mokka will now walk between the two bedrooms (which are connected by a short hallway and connecting wall), meowing for the dog to wake up and come play with him.

As I type this, Nero is asleep on our larger couch, Dante is balled up with me on the loveseat (slightly awkward as he is 95 pounds…) and Mokka is walking in circles, at my feet, singing to Nero.  I had decided to move out here to save at least my husband from the insanity that is Mokka, so at least one of us can get some sleep.

So, I continue to write, coaxing myself to get tired enough to justify shuffling Nero off the larger couch and curling up in the fetal position to catch a few more hours of sleep.  Will it work? I have no idea, but if it doesn’t, it won’t be for lack of trying on my part.

It’s ironic that only last week I threw away my entire bottle of Melatonin…damn me and my OCD impulsive cleaning habits.  I hadn’t used the melatonin in over 2 months and figured I could always grab another bottle if I really wanted to…yeah, right.

On nights like these, I can’t help but wonder if this is what parenthood is like.  Kid wakes up, cries, babymonitor goes ape**** and one or the other parent has to get out of bed, stumble drunkenly to the baby room and check on the little tyke.  Next is the feeding, burping, changing, cuddling, rocking, singing, swearing and clock-watching that is middle-of-the-night-parenthood.  Obviously there are some disparities between the two situations (such as not throwing a bottle of water at a crying child, some how I think someone might talk…), but overall, I wonder if they are similar to each other.

Oh, thank you Lord, Mokka is now balled up on the rug (the one he was just pacing and singing on) in his little “bunny” pose, feet tucked up under his chest delicately and his tail curled around his body.  He isn’t singing.  The silence is the most beautiful sound I have heard all night, seriously.  Now I sit here listening to the melodic hum of the refrigerator and the whir of the air conditioning …

Dammit.

There he goes again.

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