Here kitty, kitty

I named my cats, Hefeweisen and Guinness, after beers. That really is apropos of nothing, but I was thinking about my beloved fuzzy monsters this morning. I've had Hefe for almost 10 years now, and I don't think I've had a solid nights sleep since. See, he likes to sleep on my head. Not around my head, or by my head, but ON my head. I'm used to it now, but in the beginning, we always had a battle in the middle of the night. When he was a kitten, I realized that the word 'catapult' was aptly named. I can't tell you how many times he got launched across the room in the middle of the night, but he's a persistant little fucker, and now, ten years later, he still sleeps on my head. Like I said I'm used to it, but it's weird when I go out of town, I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder where my furry nightcap is.

I am a side sleeper, which suits Guinney just fine. He likes to hunker down in the curve of my legs. And he's a polite kitty, unlike Hefe (also nicknamed PIMA for Pain In My Ass) who crawls all over me purring like a John Deere tractor. Guinney will sit at the side of the bed and wait for me to get settled down (I am a tosser and turner for the first few minutes) before he jumps up and settles in for the night. Guinness also has a serious case of OCD. I admit it, I utilize the snooze button every damn day. It's stupid, I know, just set the alarm 15 minutes later, right? But I hate just jumping out of bed, I have to lay there for a few minutes before starting the day. Anyway, the alarm goes off, and Guinney hops down and heads for his food dish. Of course, I hit the snooze and after a few minutes, when he realizes that food isn't going to magically appear, he comes back and gets all comfy, just in time for the alarm to go off again. Lather, rinse, repeat. You'd think he'd figure it out by now. It might make me a bad kitty mom, but I find it hilarious and sometimes hit the snooze just because.

Silly cats. Sillier human.