Cat Calls

I'm sitting in bed with my laptop, perusing through my email inbox , half-watching the re-run of friends on TBS. This is my usual late-night routine, although sometimes I substitute the laptop and the television for a good book.

My cat, Socks, just crawled up my chest, nuzzling her face into my neck. I tried to get her to snuggle next to me, so that I could continue responding to a few emails. She became more aggressive, pushing her furry face into mine, then actually crawling onto my lap, placing her two front paws on my stomach, nose in my face. Her claws pinched me a bit, and I pushed her away.

I almost cried over her reaction to my shove: she rolled onto her back, four paws in the air, and cried. If you are a cat-owner, then you understand what I mean when I refer to a cat "crying." It's a sad, tiny meow that emerges from the sweet animal, in which she is trying to say, "Please don't ignore me. I just want to be loved."


I haven't had much time to myself lately, let alone have time for my two cats, Socks and Callie. Callie has found a new game to play in the middle of the night. She sits in the living room and howls until I walk out and pick her up and bring her back to bed with me... or until I open the porch door and let her out for some fresh air. She won't stay in bed with me, though. She will start to climb on my nightstands, or worse, attempt to jump up onto the wall-shelvings above my head.

I have tried simply shutting my bedroom door to drown out her cries. When I do this, she simply moves to the door, sits, and howls louder. This has been going on for a few weeks now, possibly longer. And I'm almost positive it's because she is feeling neglected.

My schedule the past few months? Work. Drive home. Change. Drive to (pick one: 4v4 volleyball game/6v6 volleyball game/volleyball practice/softball game). Post practice or game activity. Drive home. Shower. Make lunch for work. Iron clothes. Check email. Sleep. Repeat.

However, the sports season is winding down, for which I'm very thankful. I never thought I would reach the point where I actually just want to go home after work and sit on the couch for a few hours and do absolutely nothing. I'm on my last day of antibiotics, too. I was diagnosed with bronchitis over the weekend, which I'd had for almost 8 days before I made myself go see a doctor. Lesson learned: don't wait until it hurts to breathe to get checked out.

I'm feeling guilty about not spending time with my cats. They watch me rush from one activity to the next, without so much as a glance in their direction. And my weekends sometimes turn into overnight ventures, which means they are left alone even longer. I'm promising myself that in a few weeks, I will return my attention to them, making sure they are getting adequate attention and some fresh air. I feel horrible, knowing that I have probably taken on more than I should have this spring. The summer months will be more relaxing, and with a potential move approaching I will have a few roommates around for more cat-company.

(NOTE: The "potential move" is a whole blog in itself, and I'm sure I'll be writing about it in the near future. I'm just waiting to see how a few negotiations pan out before I get my hopes up in writing.)

Currently, I have Socks on my right side and Callie on my left... both asleep and content with the company I am offerring them. But as soon as I drift to sleep, Socks will become restless and start wandering the apartment... and Callie will begin her incessant howling at the moon.