Cat Wailing and Insomnia...
This is a bit of a naff post.
You may have guessed, from reading this blog, that Kate and I love our cats. We do. We do love our cats.
I just wish that sometimes they weren't quite so quirky as to draw attention to themselves. For instance, at 4:27am this morning, Mischa was meowing her head off outside and I heard the neighbour calling, "here, puss, puss, puss" out her windows. As if Madame Mischa is some stray in pain who needs rescuing.
But that's exactly how she sounded.
I recognised the tone of the meowing. It was her "I've Caught A Thing" song. The past few months, every time she has caught 'a thing', she has sung about it outside, often while crunching the 'thing'. Sometimes she brings whatever it is indoors and continues singing inside (preferred because it won't disturb the neighbours), with the occasional growl thrown in when one of the others approach. The "I've Caught A Thing" song is very distinctive and sounds like no other meow she emits. Nope. It sounded like she was in an incredible amount of pain and needed rescuing.
Mortified, I rushed downstairs in my nightie and barefeet and went outside. In a stage whisper, I said: "Mischa! You silly girl - the window is open!" I knew the neighbours were listening - the lights were on next door. I didn't want them to think I am a bad kitty-mommy who locks her children outside. The window was indeed open! I also didn't want them to think that Mischa is neglected, in pain and needs rescuing.
Mischa was in the neighbour's garden, singing happily away and crunching her mouse. She looked at me with big wide eyes that said, "I've caught a thing, mummy. I've caught a thing. Look! I am eating my thing." Gilbert poked his head round the door and had no doubt seen me in my short nightie, attempting to coax Mischa into the house. Oh dear. The neighbour has seen me in my bedroom attire.
"Mischa, you have to go inside. Now. Please?" Mischa didn't care. She wasn't embarrassed. I picked her up and took her indoors. She hates being picked up. I was scratched to buggery.
With Mischa settled, I went back upstairs and climbed back into bed. It was 4:43am. I could not get back to sleep. At 5:30am I decided that if I wasn't asleep by 6am, I would get up. I must have dropped off after that because I was woken up by the alarm at 7am.
And all that for Madame Mischa.