Lately, I’ve been having a lot of pillow fights.
And no, it’s not what all you men are thinking. I’m not flouncing around my bedroom in my undies with three other half-nekkid chicks, practicing French kissing while feathers drift around us in an artful, slow-motion flurry. Pervs.
This is literally a fight over a pillow. My pillow.
And my fight isn’t even with some hot hunk of a guy (or some cute little slut of a girl) – It’s with Fluffy Kitty Butt.
This cat loves me. Seriously. He loooooooves me. He runs to the door when I get home, tail up, eyes bright, all excited. And various pet-sitters have told me about the “Oh… it’s only YOU” face he makes when they stop by to feed him.
He generally sleeps through the night now that he’s gotten older – no more “Fluffy’s Fabulous Four AM Fun Hour” – Thank daylight!
But he’s developed a really annoying habit over the past few weeks and it’s driving me fucking nuts.
He begins by sleeping on the pillow next to mine (I sleep on the right side of the bed – I don’t know why) and purring REALLY loudly. And then he starts inching closer, and closer, and closer, until he’s making paddy-paws in my hair.
I inch away, scooting down further in the bed. He follows, claws still tangling in my hair. I inch further away. He follows.
By morning I am lying flat on the mattress with no pillow at all and he is curled up, snug as a fucking bug, on my pillow as if it were a cushion I’d set there just for him.
It’s a war. And he’s winning.