Purrrfectly Fuddled

Before there were children, before there was Dakota, before there was even a husband, I was wooed by a white purring fuss ball. Anya the cat was my souvenir on a field trip back in the day of preschool teaching and singleness. My handsome Artist and I were already dating and unbeknownst to me, he almost broke up with me over my snugly fur ball. However he wisely perceived I was worth more than a surprise pet and continued to pursue me.

Now fast forward several years of marriage, a move to the countryside, 3 pregnancies, and incidentally 3 kids! This small purring setback became a part of the family and ultimately a responsibility for my Artist too. Stuck shoveling cat litter during my pregnancies and unwanted midnight cuddles taking up his precious pillow space and I think he started seeing red. I begrudgingly agreed. Change was in order. So the pampered indoor cat became an outdoor transplant.

Occasionally she still comes in to eat and to escape grubby little boys whose definition of love closely resembles torture. She can squeeze into a good hiding place and doesn't always get kicked back outside in a timely fashion. The other night was just one of these times.

 under the crib

 I remember waking up to a loud purring machine snuggled up close to my head. I moved the soft lump of fur to the floor and drifted back to sleep. Persistent and determined, Anya returned several more times before I finally gave up and fell asleep with her on the bed. Undetermined amount of time passes and again I am awakened to her pushing in on my side. I am too foggy to get up and put her outside, but irritated to no end that she is disturbing my precious sleep. Without much more thought to it, I give the fur ball a good shove off the bed to show her whose boss.

"Mooooommmmmmmmmmmmy" was the furry reply. I sat up confused and grabbed the now sobbing Samuel sitting on the floor. Oops!!