Days and Nights Mixed

My mother would say I have my days and nights mixed. And that's the truth. Otherwise why would I be sitting here at 3:30 am working on a blog post?

I tried going to bed earlier, but my bones hate going to bed. I'm as loosely strung as an old marionette, and when I lie down the backbone connected to the funny bone and the hip bone connected to the hop bone somehow find themselves in new and uncomfortable configurations. Now, why I don't just get smart and take the pain pills two hours before a reasonable bedtime I don't know. My optimistic side takes inventory, finds nothing acant, and says, "I don't need pain meds tonight!"

So here I am at 3:30 am, having not yet slept, waiting for the pills to kick in so I can lie down.

Sprawled on the floor near my chair is the magnificently spoiled Cattus Salvadorus. Salvador means servant in Spanish and never was a name so ill-chosen for a feline. Yes, I know it's because he sports a little Dali-like moustache of freckles just below his duffer nose, but he is no one's servant. Just the opposite. Last night I had not a single hour of uninterrupted sleep, courtesy of a lonely cat.

Where we might just scold him and tell him to get in his bed and lie down, we're a bit soft on him right now. Two days before Christmas he became desperately ill. For a while it was touch and go whether we'd lose him or not. Even now we're a bit apprehensive about his future. He has a back problem, and his hind legs are beginning to fail. He's also lost a substantial amount of weight. We snuggle him a lot. We sneak a pain pill into him tucked inside his "cookie".

Yes, he's a terrible nuisance but he's just the kind of nuisance we love, and any way you look at it, despite all the vet intervention, injections, pills and potions, we can hardly help but wonder how long we'll have him with us.

With him or worrying about being without him, it's very hard to sleep.