It’s 3 A.M. It’s always 3 A.M. That heart-racing shadow time between first sleep and ragged consciousness. It starts by the stairs, announcing itself with a quiet scrape-scrape-scape like something in the walls. And then it rests, takes in the air around it. Scrape drag-scrape drag, closer, louder now. The creaking railing and floorboards mark its progress toward me. Eyes scrunched closed and pillow over my head I burrow deeper into the covers, wishing stillness, invisibility. But the blanket at the foot of the bed tugs back. Then that strangely soft brush of fur against my ankle right before the bite.
Inspired by All Work and No Play. Image of Tala by the author.
Has any cat owner ever really known a full night's sleep?
ReplyDeleteHa! I should have called it "Tigre"
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