I had a terrible night's sleep last night. Mancub and I learned awhile ago that the key to sleeping soundly is locking our furry companions downstairs. It's not as if they are being sequestered to the dungeon-like Silence of the Lambs basement. They have run of the living and dining room, bathroom and kitchen. While they get into nocturnal mischief, we sleep with little to no disruption.
But not last night.
Silver is in heat which means she's howling loud enough to signal male cats in a neighboring counties that she's primed and ready ... if they can get at her, that is. Neither cat has ever been outdoors. As a result, they don't attempt to dash out the door even when they want to get their feline groove on.
Our usual tactic of luring them from my bedroom -- their common sleeping spot -- did not work last night. We have cat treats that leave them Jonesing. Mo-mo has been known to knock the little bag off the shelf and attempt to gnaw her way into it. She'll also bully Silver to get her portion. Yes, she's a hog and the queen of the domain. I'm foolish to believe this is my castle. Anyway, shaking the bag will typically send them careening downstairs obediently *cough*. This has been a successful manner of giving us just enough time to escape to hall and close the door behind us.
Last night was different ...
Mo-mo barely raised and eyebrow as she lounged in "her" chair that resides in the corner of my bedroom. Silver meandered half way down the steps but stopped. If I took a step in her direction she'd get on her haunches ready to sprint up the steps. Mancub had placed two treats on the lower steps. Out of view, she crept toward the chickeny reward, but her keen hearing told on us. She's sleek and nearly impossible to catch.
Queen Bee Mo-mo isn't usually loud. She's polite about letting me know she needs to go downstairs when she gets locked upstairs with me. She hops on my bed and lets out a sweet mew and stares at me until it appears that I'm awake. Then, she cautiously follows down the steps. She won't go to the door until I open the door. Often, if we've been successful getting Silver locked out, she'll be waiting on the window sill behind the curtain. Then, woosh! Before I know what's happening she's bolting up the steps. ARGH!
Last night we weren't successful. We just hoped they'd forget they were nocturnal and sleep or find amusement downstairs. We. Were. Wrong.
Deeply slumbering (and likely snoring) I was jolted awake by the caterwauling of dear Silver. She was spastically rushing the stairs. That fortunately made it easy to get her downstairs. She continued with her guttural groaning as the latch clicked behind me.
On to sleep. NOT!
At 4:30 (keep in mind I awaken between 5:30 and 6:00) Mo-mo in her tender manner ... mew. mew. mew. She's a big cat but has the sweetest meow when she wants something. Without hesitation she joined Silver and I managed to get back to sleep quickly.
Mancub came in my room and I lay there motionless when he put his hand on my shoulder to awaken me. Fifteen minutes later I shuffled to greet my son. I have little recollection of what took place between that time and the time I returned to bed ... for TWO or more hours of sleeping.
Now I feel groggy and loopy. These cats are smart. They are on to us. We need a new method.