The Bastard Son of Satan

This is an entry for all of you cat owners out there. Well, an entry for all cat owners who have BAD cats, and not "bad" in a cool kinda way.

Our youngest cat, Picasso (or "Picky"), is just a whisker shy of his first birthday. Normally, he is an adorable bundle of fur, but at night he becomes what we in the Hippie Household like to call "the bastard son of Satan." Picky is very attached to his family (especially his mommy) and can't stand to be alone for very long. Which becomes a problem at 10 p.m., when his three favorite playmates decide to turn in for the night. Oh, bedtime starts out quietly enough, with my little kitty curling up at my feet to snooze. But at 2 a.m., it gets ugly. REALLY ugly. UGLY with a capital U - G - L - Y.

You see, 2 a.m. is when Picky decides that he's had enough sleep for one night and that it's time to patrol the bed's perimeter. If that fails to wake his mommy up, he likes to crawl up on my pillow and swish his tail in my face. I've learned to sleep through this little trick, but Picky has devised yet another wake-up strategy - he licks me awake. Yes, Picky gets to work on any lickable surface he can find, which (since I like to pull the covers up to my nose) is usually my hair. Okay, I like having my hair done in a salon as much as the next girl, but "Hair by Picasso" is something that we can all do without. Seriously. Ick. It is not a good way to wake up.

Once the grooming starts, the cycle of pushing Picky off the bed/Picky jumping back on the bed begins. In between this fairly straight-forward routine he likes to claw at the mattress and trill loudly. Yes, TRILL. The BSOS doesn't have a "normal" meow...he chirps and trills. Which is heartbreakingly cute during the day, but pretty damn annoying when you'd rather be asleep.

After HWSRN starts tossing and turning (and waking up), I take Picky downstairs for the second phase of the evening...also known as "sleeping on the couch and riding herd on the cats so the Beavis and HWSRN can sleep." Fortunately, the couch is super-comfy. I usually curl up with a couple of afghans, which (for some reason) are complete cat magnets - within a minute or two Sunny and Stinky are coming out from their secret cat-hiding places to cuddle, and even Picky will join us for a little snooze...or so I thought. But it turns out that the little shit has been playing his version of a practical joke on us all. Instead of going back to sleep, he waits until I start snoring to creep back upstairs and pester the other humans. PLAY TIME! WAKE UP! COME ON GUYS! DON'T MAKE ME LICK YOUR HAIR!

Talk about some seriously sleep-deprived people. I think the Beavis was easier to "train" when he came home from the hospital.

This weekend I started putting Picky in "time out" when his little wake-up routine begins; "time out" being his cat carrier. Then I sit and stare at him, along with the other cats, and repeat: "No, no, Picky. Mommy has to sleep. Time to go to nighty-night. Time for Picky cats to sleep. See? Stinky is sleeping. Sunny is sleeping. Time for Picky to sleep."

I think I may finally be losing my mind. Can a cat's walnut-sized brain comprehend my midnight ramblings? I don't think so. At any rate, this nightly routine clearly demonstrates WHO is in charge of the Hippie Household, and it sure as hell isn't me.