I know what you’re thinking as you read that title. I would probably think the exact same thing if I wasn’t the person writing this.
Nope, I’m not talking about those guys. It is a pretty cool song, though, you must admit. Klassic one-hit wonder there. No, I’m talking about this little space hog:
This is my cat Thor!. Believe it or not, that was not a hiccup in punctuation. His name is Thor! Don’t you wish you had a punctuation mark as part of your name too? Sure you do. It’s an instant conversation starter.
Oh, yes, he’s quite the looker. I got him at the pound when he was all of four months old and approximately one-half pound. Now he’s about 18 pounds—that ain’t no itty bitty kitty. I wouldn’t mind so much, but he’s a bed hog. Oh, yes, that furry little bastard decided that he needs the lion’s share of a king size bed. He insists on taking up his half of the middle, the sides, the foot and any place you want to move during the night. He likes to cuddle. I’m not just saying that in the overly-attached crazy cat lady way. The little fucker has to keep his body pressed up against you at all times. He takes it rather personally if you want to move during the night. He has no sense of humor about this, and will gladly dig in his claws if he feels you’re moving out of turn (which is all the time, according to him).
See that? It’s not just me; it’s everyone in the house. He likes having somebody to spoon with. The dog doesn’t like it, but she will put up with it as long as I’m around. If I leave, she immediately departs from his radius. This cat is a class “A” space invader.
It wasn’t so bad having him around and occasionally sleeping on top of me when he was a baby. It’s bad now. I’m talking about having a furry little space hog that weighs 18 pounds muscling his way around the bed at night. Sometimes he leaves just long enough to get a snack and come back. (Yes, I’m aware that I probably over feed him.) Try having 18 pounds stomping across your stomach in the middle of the night or snuggling in on top of your back. I can get winded from just laying still. I can’t explain to the chiropractor why my back is constantly messed up. But that’s not the only thing. Thor! likes to sleep on the pillows from time to time. It can be a person’s worse nightmare to wake up with a cat ass two inches from your face. Scratch ‘n sniff, everybody.
He takes up approximately ¾ of the bed when he wants. I think he sticks out his tongue and extends his tail just to add insult to injury. When you can’t move, or wake up to cat ass wafting through your nostrils only to roll over and get a face full of hair as you work your way across the pillow, the night becomes way too fucking long. Oh well, at least I can live with the knowledge that it will all be over at 5:30 a.m., when a scene similar to this occurs like clockwork: