Tag Archives: comfort

Bed Time Antics And Other High Jinks

1505773265263

Smudge lounging on the bed.

After being stomped and prodded on this morning, followed by a fluffy tail placed strategically close to my face, I promptly got up. Half an hour later, I find Smudge still lounging on the bed contemplating his day.

He is a paradox—his actions both predictable and unexpected. Sometimes early morning, he will snuggle on the bed making himself comfy. Yesterday, as I rolled over on my side, Smudge bulldozed his way between a gap in the covers beside me. Turning around, he parked his head on the pillow, his body, hidden under the doona. The big mog has always been a connoisseur of comfort. He has numerous beds, his own rug and regularly uses my belly as a makeshift cushion. During winter, he hogs the heater.

Last night before getting ready for bed, I let Smudge out hoping that he’d do his business in the garden. Later, I checked the opened, front door, his usual sleeping spots, and called out his name several times. Ten minutes later, I found him hiding in the kitchen.

1506120898623

Snoozing again and ‘those claws’.

I was typing this entry at my desk when Smudge reached up and spiked my thigh. Not happy! As he released his paw, a claw remained caught in my pants. The harder he pulled, the deeper it became embedded in the fabric. While trying to separate us, I slowly slid off the chair, but he kept tugging. I’m embarrassed to say that after dropping my pants, Smudge finally managed to draw his paw free.

The Human.

Advertisements

Sleep – I Wish

dscn0134

Comfy.

A connoisseur of comfort, Smudge has many sleeping spots around the house. His favourite places are an armchair and the couch, the bottom shelf in the hall cupboard, on top of an overnight bag and of course, my bed – mostly when I’m absent.

Due to my study efforts and feeling ignored, he is sleeping back on the bed at night with me. I’d prefer that he didn’t because having a bony chin stuck into my leg is really uncomfortable. I’m a restless sleeper and with Smudge on the bed, I feel guilty turning on my side, rolling onto my back and constantly turning while he stays curled up in the same position for ages.

Recently, I can’t tolerate the weight of the doona on my sore foot, especially when a hefty moggie is leaning on my ankle.

dsc01362

Smudge’s sheet roll.

Early each morning after torturing me to get his breakfast, Smudge will then go outside and patrol his territory. In no time, he will return to bed. When I’m up again he follows me, but sometimes the slacker will snooze for another hour.

Often I wake-up and find myself on one side of the mattress, while the furball is in the centre of the bed, curled up, his eyes and nose hidden underneath a fluffy tail. Yesterday, I found myself balanced on the edge of the bed – literally on a quarter of the mattress – so I shoved him over. Soon Smudge began pawing at my cheeks and flicking his tail across my face.

The Human.