The cat's revenge

If you've been following my blog, you know that my cat has a vendetta. When we left off, the cat woke me up at O'dark thirty because he was doing his dirty deeds with a stray outside my bedroom window. I thought I had solved that problem by keeping his amorous ass in the house at night. And it worked. For a while. He didn't wake me up for almost a week. Today, at O'dark thirty, he struck again. Normally, I'm a side sleeper. I like curling up, finding my sweet spot and drifting off to a peaceful dreamland. Mostly, I stay asleep once I find that spot with the exception of the occasional 'wake up to pee' moments. Sometimes, when my allergies are wreaking havoc, I sleep on my back so I can breathe. If you don't suffer from nasal allergies, I hate you. You are lucky and I hate you. Last night was one of those nights that I really needed to sleep on my back. I was reasonably comfortable considering this is not my preferred sleeping position. I was sleeping fairly well. Not really the best sleep but still, decent enough. Until the cat came in. If I neglected to mention, this is not a small, puny looking cat. This is a ginormous, fat, lazy cat. He's larger than my 5 pound chihuahua. Meaner, too. For some reason, that only the fat cat knows, he felt an overwhelming urge to use my stomach for a springboard while I was dead asleep. There are certain ways that I prefer to be woke up. This is not one of them. Not only did it scare the holy hell out of me, it was physically painful. I grabbed something off the night stand, threw it in the cats general direction and went back to sleep. Just as I reached that place between awake and asleep, fat cat dives off of the headboard and right back into the middle of my stomach. I'm awake now. I'm not happy. The cat, that bastard has a smirk on his face. I know a cat smirk when I see one. I get some coffee and the cat follows me. Mocking me. Laughing at me. Bastard.