“What was that?”
“It’s 3am. What was what?” I replied, groggily I might add.
“It sounded like something.”
“Well, that clarifies things.” I added helpfully.
A crunching noise filled the house. Oh, it’s only a cat. No problem back to sleep.
Turns out that Sandy had come in through the cat door, rummaged around the kitchen and found nothing worthwhile to eat. He then came into the bedroom and meowed around for a while, which I don’t remember, before he returned to the kitchen to take things into his own hands, er, paws.
First, he turned over the kitchen trash can hoping for a half-gnawed rib or something, but we took all that stuff to the curb last night. No ribs to gnaw. The Boy had the same problem, but solved it with peanut butter and a half a loaf of bread.
Sandy then found the sack of cat chow I bought at Kroger’s the day before. Undaunted, he hauled the sack off the counter, ripped it open and snacked away.
I do recall that later in the night a cat hopped on my chest and breathed tuna and cheese pellets into my nose.
I dreamt that I was on a Norwegian fishing boat all night long.
“They’ll bite on cheese, laddies!” the skipper shouted, “More cheese!:”
I woke up exhausted.