Pussycats Without the Dolls

While walking home from the bus stop, today, I spotted two cats in front of a couple of the homes, at the other end of my row. These were the same two cats I had seen this morning, on my way to work. They were laying in the same spots. One is white, the other mostly black, with a white underbelly. They seem to spend all their time laying on the driveway in front of the homes at that end of the terraced row. I think the black and white one hangs out in my back garden, from time to time. When there are cars in their favorite spots, they just lay on top of the cars.
What a life! Imagine laying about, doing whatever you want all day. No need to take buses, or work to earn your keep. No wonder cats purr. I have often compared myself to cats, since I was young. The best pet I ever had was my cat, Misty. I can't remember what age I was when I got him, but I know I had him by the time I was eleven. The proof is a Polaroid photo of him, with me, taken with my great aunt, Ann's camera. I am wearing an outfit in that photo that I wore when I was eleven. It would have been the latter half of 1970, or early 1971. I wonder where that photo is now?
Misty was a kitten when he came to live with me. He was silver tabby on the top of his head, on his back, sides and tail. The lower half of his face and body were white, and he had a touch of calico. Most of the time we lived together, he used to come sleep with me. Misty was also good at keeping the mice out of the house, or at least, in hiding so we were never bothered by them. Once in a while, he would kill one. Someday, when I can afford domestic help, I want to get another cat. Comparing myself to cats, I am like a big cat, like a tiger. With me, you can either get the soft fur, or the sharp claws, depending on how you act.
As I walk up to my door, I spot a third cat. This one is long-haired, red tabby with white. He's crouched on the lawn, just past my door. He quietly eyes me as I put my key in the lock. I've seen him in the back garden, as well. So, I have three local cats watching over me. Maybe they are keeping me safe from bad people. My great aunt, Ann used to say, "never trust anyone who doesn't get one well with cats." My evil ex-wife, the Black Queen, didn't like cats. She claimed to be allergic to them. With her, I failed to heed Ann's warning until it was too late. Ann died seventeen years before I met the Black Queen. Misty died eighteen years before I met the Black Queen. So, when I met her, there were no cats to protect me. No aunts either.

Cat Nap

I have fallen into a new pattern. I keep falling asleep while watching TV, then waking up in the middle of the night. I thought one cause of this was not taking my traditional nap when I get home from work. Since Nando came back from Italy, I have been sitting with him and watching TV, when I get home, rather than napping. Here in England, many people say "kip," instead of nap. I wonder where that came from? They have lots of odd little ways of saying things, here. That's one of the things that makes Britain a fun place to visit if you are American. They sort of speak English, but it's different enough to feel foreign. Anyway, today I did have a kip, but still I fell asleep early, then woke up again. Oh dear, what ever is happening with my sleeping pattern?
Sometimes I think it would be great not to have to sleep. I know I feel sleepy just because there is a chemical released in my body to make me feel that way. If I didn't have to sleep, there would be more time to get stuff done. I wouldn't feel pressured to rush out a blog article and end up writing about almost nothing. On the other hand, I enjoy sleeping so much. Have you ever noticed how cats sleep a lot? That must be the life. The biggest decisions a cat has to make, on any given day, are, "do I sleep now, or latter?" and "should I sleep here, or there?" Oh no, the birds have started chirping. Maybe that's why cats chase birds, so they will stop making that bloody racket and ruining an opportunity to sleep. Oh well, I am off to bed.