Thursday, March 10, 2016
Togetherness is overrated. It's a given that all four of us will sleep on what was once considered "my" side of the bed. I've learned to deal with that because most of the night I'm sleeping, too. It is only a problem when I wish to stretch out or turn over and am prohibited by heavy (really heavy), furry, immovable bodies. The issue at the moment is "my" chair. I just wanted some alone time in my chair yesterday. Bessie Anne was having another anxiety attack, repeatedly demanding a boost up into my lap, whining and crying and staring into my eyes. Refused, she would wander dejectedly over to her chair or either of the sofas she's claimed, jump up, lie down, and pout. A few minutes later and she'd be back and we'd go through it all again. "No! You've got to leave me alone for a little while! No." And then there was Celeste. Celeste doesn't ask for permission. Out of nowhere, suddenly there's a cat on my lap. "No, Celeste. Not right now," and I'd push her off to the floor. Cats ignore "no," it's simply not in their vocabulary. Like a cork in water, she'd pop back up again. We reached a compromise when I moved her from my lap to my side; at least she wasn't on me. That hurt Bessie's feelings. I could hear the Smothers Brothers (1960s), "Mother always liked you best." Nothing in the world can give an accusatory stare like a disappointed dog. "Why does she get to sit in your chair and I can't?" Apologies and explanations meant nothing to Bess. She wanted up in my lap and that was that. There are just some times I need my own space. I'm going to get an Off Limits sign and hope for the best.