So, as I said, I love my Momma. Now I have heard her say I am the most Loving and Giving pet (was I born on a Friday?) that she has ever encountered. After I was no longer under the influence of Mandu, who was floating around on her Pink Cloud, I needed to plan for my future. During the day, as I laid on RIP Daddy’s bed, I made long-term plans for sharing Momma’s bed at night, hence forth.
I also patrolled Momma’s bedroom and noticed little Calico Diva Gen spent a lot of time on the bed and even got to eat kibble from a bowl, fed at the bottom of the bed. Huh!
I have got to get Jakita to look that up in her Policy and Procedures for All Creation but I am almost certain that it is verboten and that Gen is just an overindulged, spoiled little Diva because she meows so sweetly, her fur is so soft and she knows how to manipulate individuals or even more importantly, how to work a crowd. So what can I do to stand out in a house where I have to compete to get attention?
Like a good miner I must survey, then stake a claim and find the gold. By 9:30 pm each night I jump on Momma’s bed, waiting, because as Gen said, ‘What else does a cat do?’ Around about 10:00pm Momma & Jakita come in the bedroom, Momma lifts Jakita on the bed because, well, she is like a white (wo)man. She can not jump. If that was me, I’d be humiliated, but Jakita is so pampered, she does not even notice that she seemed to be born without springs in her back legs. But no trash talking Jakita. She has a good heart, even if she is a bit paranoid, tattling to Momma if I do wrong. At the same time she protects me from other cats, takes my side if I go out on a limb, reassure Momma when I over extend myself. She’s got my back.
Once the lights are out, I make my move, pouring my body against Momma’s rib cage, my thick, matted fur wedged between the bed and her bones, purring contentedly. Meanwhile Jakita, sleeps at Momma’s feet, drifting off to never-never-land. I do not really get it but it is like Jakita passes out, she does not even move a muscle, all night long, unless, I accidentally wake her up like I did a couple of nights ago.
Something I noticed is Momma always brings a glass of water to bed, placing it on the bedside table, every night. Now Momma fills our water bowls many times a day. She even mistakenly leaves toilet lids up and whoa, Andy thinks it is his private drinking bowl. Not my cup of tea. However, I do not mind drinking from the same glass as Momma. Say what, Momma… won’t like that? I have only one thing to say about that. I am most fastidious, so get over it, Momma. One night I was thirsty. It was right in front of me, not two feet away. The lights were off, but cats are nocturnal, right?
I quietly tried to step over Momma to get close to the water-glass (thank our Baby Jesus it was a plastic). Like a missile, the glass went flying, baptizing me, Momma, the nightstand and the floor. Angels and semi precious gems took flight, pills scattered, and Momma’s crystal ball rolled, like thunder from heaven, on the hardwood floor.
In a flash Momma was awake, turning on the light, saying, ‘What the heck?’ I was in shock. What had I done? Would I be evicted from the inner sanctum? I jumped back over Momma, positioned myself by my protector, Jakita who seemed to rise from the great beyond and further. She sat up, shook her head to clear away the cob webs, looked at Momma beseechingly as if to say, ‘No worries. It was an accident,’ and promptly flopped down and went back to her former comatose state.
Momma looked at me, then at Jakita, hopped out of bed to get towels to mop up the wet floor, and rectified random objects that had been caught in the devastation. She got back in bed, turned off the light and said, ‘Go to sleep Charlie, Fais Do-Do, Jakita. Sweet Dreams and Charlie, the water is, as Jakita would say – mine, mine, mine.’
Is it any wonder I love, love, love Momma?
