Peace is lying down, all day long, on a fluffy blanket. It’s reaching out as far as you can and feel your muscles stretch. It’s a ray of sun on your belly, or hands, or even the slight touch of an ear listening to your heart beat. Slowly lifting your head, then noticing that the day’s not over, there’s no food yet, nothing to wake up for. So you lie back down and enjoy the comfortable position you’re in. Peace is scratching that itchy place behind your ear before you fall asleep again. Sleeping it is, for the rest of the day, the rest of the week, the rest of the year for that matter. When this place is no longer enough, you can search for a new place. A chair, for example. A bed, if you see an open door by accident. Even the floor will do. Especially when it’s warm, the cool floor is amazingly nice.

Peace is watching your people sit, walk around, eat. When they’re all there, it’s all good. Nothing will happen, food will be there. You can roll over, stretch your paws in the air and sleep. Feeling your eyes slowly closing and obeying this gravity.

Life is good.

Life is good.

I’m so jealous of our cat…


via Wikipedia

Another life

They will let me go to bed, won’t they? Of course they will. They can’t resist. And if I ask for it, beg for it, make them crazy with my whining, they will open that giant door and let me go. I’m just so tired and I want to sleep. In a dark room, on top of the sheets. I’ll make my own little nest, dig my own little hole and sleep for the rest of the day. That’s how it goes.
They open the door. Is it really for me? Yes, they are looking at me and waiting, making sounds I don’t understand. But I don’t care. I go up the stairs, hoping for that one door to be opened. Then – footsteps. I look to the right. She’s leaving her room. The bed is empty now. The bed is empty. Would it be a good one? That one’s better. Is there still someone there? No. They aren’t. I can hear the dishes.
I don’t want to go there. Here’s my bed. I just have to push a bit and… it opens. Darkness. That’s good. Where will I lie? Here. It’s good. Some little pushing and preparing before I lie down and clean myself up a bit. It’s needed. It calms me down.
Someone opens the door again. I won’t move. They won’t pick me up and dump me somewhere else, will they? No, she just talks and lets me be. Good. Don’t hug me. Go.
She goes away. Could I make a perfect circle only using myself? I won’t try to keep my eyes open. They’re closing. No resistance.


One of the worst things that can happen

One of the worst things that can happen, is that your sleep is ruined. For example, when you are dizzy and feel like you can’t move your head without feeling like you are falling. Every little move wakes you up. Wakes you from a strange dream in which you can’t remember your phone number (necessary to be freed).
And then someone kicks your door open (light! so much light!) and jumps on your bed. He uses you as a pillow. Your ability to move is gone. When you try to move away, just a little bit, from your conquistador, he just rises again and moves back to you, dropping himself against your back. Merciless.
I succeeded in escaping my bed – although it must have looked pretty weird – and saw my cat lying exactly in the middle, sleeping peacefully. And poor me, with a head like a balloon, had to move because of no more space.
I love cats.