Another cat post. (Birthday edition)

My coffee pot with the evening's brew shut itself off, the coffee unfinished. The leftovers from dinner, too, sat on the stove and got cold. My phone rang, and went unanswered. My foot fell asleep. The gorgeous, seventy degree weather turned as the sun went down, and cold air drafts pushed through the house. I shivered, I went on as long as I could before I just got too cold. My arm fell asleep. Painful pins and needles started in my fingers, my hand had been asleep so long.

Why?

My neurotic little guy, Sam, had been ZONKED on my lap for an hour and a half.

Turn away now, if you don't want to hear MORE about my cats.

An hour and a half is a LONG time for me to sit still without moving at all. I have to get up and stretch at the very least, but I can usually find about a million other things to do in other rooms of the house that prevent me from camping out for too long. Movie theatres are awful to me for this reason.

Anyway, Sam hopped up on my lap after I finished my last bite of dinner. Usually he just headbutts my hand and arm until I scratch the scruff of his neck and rub his cheeks. As soon as I fulfill my quota on that, he hops up and runs off, either to his bed just outside our bedroom door, the couch in front of the big big window, or his pillow on the floor of my bedroom. He will sleep there alone, until little brother comes to wake him up. He doesn't usually linger.

Tonight, he hopped up on my lap, contorted his body into a comfortable position, his head tucked into the crook of my elbow, and BOOM. Knocked out. The kids playing in the street didn't wake him up. The phone ringing, Max running by the door, the bell on his collar jingling violently, chasing some invisible prey. Car horns. Doors slamming. Birds outside the window. All of the usual auditory triggers that make him hop up and run for the shelter of the nearest hiding spot had no effect.

I shifted. I squirmed. I even picked him up so I could cross the other leg, which usually makes him tense all of his muscles and turns him into the Incredible Wooden Kitty who does not want to fold himself into your arms in any way at all.

He continued snoring, softly. I got impatient, rubbed his belly. This usually turns him into Incredible Bucking Kitty, to keep my hand away from his belly. All in an attempt to make HIM decide that he didn't want to be in my lap anymore. Scratched the scruff of his neck. Rubbed his cheeks. Nothing.

I didn't want to be mean, but I needed to get up to.. wait.. what did I need to do? Well, I didn't need that third cup of coffee. And I was planning on just wrapping up the leftovers anyway. And I'm sure the phone ringing was just Ben, calling to say he's on his way home. I decided to be OK with being his Lap, and he decided to be OK with being my Lap Cat.

It's these small things that make me grateful that we got these two little guys. All of the middle-of-the-night spontaneous wrestling matches, right outside the door, collar bells jingling furiously and little furry bodies THUMPing into the floor, the walls, the door. Max's careful, studied hunting of our feet under the blankets. Sam's plaintive yowling when you walk up the stairs. Or into the kitchen. Not too loud to make you concerned, more like a hello. The mad dashes down the stairs (also in the middle of the night) that make you wonder where the elephants came from, because surely two cats who each weigh less than ten pounds could not make that wild thumping chorus all the way down the stairs. Being able to do nothing more than just laugh out loud when the skid across the wood floor trying to catch the stuffed mouse and knock into a chair. Or the kitchen cabinets. Or each other. And when Sam chases the laser pointer light around and around and around in a circle and then tumbles in a dizzy tangle of wiggly kitty legs to the floor.

Cats are nothing like dogs, and I grew up with dogs in the house almost throughout my entire childhood. Cats don't always need you. I thought that having cats would be like having another two tiny tenants in the house, who came out when the food was ready and disappeared as soon as it was gone, not to be seen again until the cycle repeats.

But I guess it is sometimes the case that they do need you. When the bed, the pillow, the blanket, and the couch just aren't.. right. When there's an itch you can't reach. When you just want a warm lap to take a nap in, or a sleeping human to drape yourself over.

I've learned to be patient. I've learned to sit still. I've learned that there is almost always something silly that will just make you laugh out loud just around the corner. I've learned that no matter how awful my day was, the cats still don't care and will continue to headbutt the palm of your outstretched hand, no matter how much you want to just take a nap in peace. And that somehow, they get it, and will just curl up next to you, or on top of you, or draped across you, when the only thing you need is a little warm furry body. Being still. Being quiet.

It's their first birthday tomorrow. Thanks for the laughs, little guys.