Very long day. Eight hours in the car back and forth to Boston for a medical appointment at Dana Farber – no worries, all is good. Quarter end at work. Despite exhaustion I have to respond to the 70+ emails that are in my inbox at 8PM when I arrived home.
John and baby Jackson head off to bed at 9. Rascal and I retire at 11. I can barely keep my eyes open.
The usual routine at “bedtime” is this:
Rascal plays “attack kitten”. He hides under the covers, we play peek-a-boo, he bites my feet through the blankets. Jackson leaps onto the bed and joins us. Alpha kitty Rascal chases him under the bed. I shut off the light. Rascal jumps back into the bed and curls up between my legs. Jackson waits patiently until we are both asleep and then curls up in Rascal’s arms. The sun rises, the wrestling begins. I yell at them to stop. They return to slumber. My alarm sounds; all hell breaks loose. Meowing, pawing, more meowing…
Rascal has learned the hard way that Mommy does not like to be woken up. Wake Mommy up = banished from the bedroom for the remainder of the night. Two nights of banishment is all it took (good thing, because “mommy” was laying in bed wide awake listening to the crying and scratching, feeling very guilty).
Last night was different. I was very tired. There was no playtime. Soon after the lights went out, Rascal woke me up. He meowed incessantly while scratching the sheets like a mad man. “Mommy’s sleepy”, I said and pushed him off the bed.
A few hours later he returned. More meowing and scratching. I pushed him off the bed a second time thinking that he must have slept the entire time I was in Boston – He was a ball of energy and just wanted to play. Or perhaps he was afraid of the noisy torrential downpours. I felt a pang of guilt.
Turns out that after my rejections, he headed to John’s room with the same routine. Strange, thought John. Baby Jackson will go into John’s room, but not Rascal. Rascal sits in the hallway and stares in at John. Mommy would think him a traitor should he join John in bed (or at least that’s what I like to believe).
Morning comes, I sleep in. John rises at 6AM to more of Rascal’s meowing. John heads to the kitchen. No Jackson. Strange. Jackson’s biggest joy in life is food. John waking up = food.
All of a sudden, John hears scratching. Baby Jackson had been trapped on the three season porch, with loud rain, thunder and lightening all night. John quickly opens the door. The poor thing is shaking. Rascal runs to Jackson. They are thrilled to see each other! They rub against each other and talk and talk, using that special meow that only they understand.
Rascal had been trying to communicate all night that his brother was trapped! What bad parents we are. I ALWAYS check for two cats before I go to bed. I stopped by to kiss John last night, expecting to see Jackson cuddling with him. He wasn’t there. I woke John and asked “What happened to Jackson?” John sleepily responded, ” I left him in the living room”. I half-heartily looked and then assumed Jackson was simply asleep someplace. I was too tired to look, he would join us later as he always does.
John remembered heading upstairs with baby Jackson in his arms. Jackson squirmed, so John deposited him on the couch and went to close the two sliders. We surmised that Jackson followed John and ran onto the porch without being noticed.
Poor little guys. They had a rough night. Skiddish Jackson stuck in the dark with scary noises. Anxious Rascal in the kitchen, with his face pinned against the glass watching his brother, but unable to help. Today they were “ying and yang”. They never left each other’s side. Proves they truly love and care about one another.
John’s assessment? “Wow, I am starting to believe Lassie was real after all!”
My Devon Rex Kittens 