March 6th, 2004



When I get settled into bed at night I feel nothing so much as cocooned. My bed is queen-size, so it isn't like a cocoon in terms of wrapping itself tightly around me, but the many covers are pulled over me and I feel enveloped and secure and loved, if that's appropriate, by my bed.

The cats endeavor to make the experience a little less or more cocoony. Stretch likes to work his way under the cover and push his soft heavy body against mine, against my chin or under my arm. This extra warmth and restraint adds a bit of tightness. Bullet usually finds a place near my head but not actually touching me. I like to reach out at night and stroke his long, soft fur, hear his little noises. Hoover plays it both ways, at times wanting to invade my space, at other times seeking the end of the bed, by my feet. With cats strategically placed I feel a bit constrained. If I were not so inclined to move I am sure this would be entirely comforting. As it is, I take pleasure in knowing they are there, in touching them from time to time, yet I disturb them all night long.

Not that they don't disturb me. Stretch has taken to grabbing Hoover by the throat and causing him to yelp and whine, and this can go on for several minutes at a time. Last night I even threw a book at him when I couldn't reach him. Fortunately, although he hurts the little guy he doesn't harm him. Hoover is up and at 'em moments after being released, and this morning he and Stretch are having a grand time chasing each other back and forth through the house. Bullet looks on, throws a paw out now and then, for the most part is not involved. Right now he is cavorting with the catnip sock. A bunch of active beasts right now.