Mouse is our
oldest second-oldest cat. [I can’t believe I forgot about Dust Bunny. Whoops.] She’s around 12 or so and has feline leukemia. She’s had it since she was a kitten, and she’s our last leukemia cat left; we have four others who do not have the disease. (Her living this long is a medical miracle.) Mouse is a constant vexation to her vet, since she’s presented with so many different conditions over the years. She has a cloudy eye thing that normally only happens to dogs; she has a recurring sinus infection that causes her to sneeze epic quantities of gunk; her fur itches sometimes; she has sores on her rear heels (this is just lately); her eyes and ears sometimes swell up for a day or so on one side, then go back to normal. She also has what appears to be a numbered tattoo on her belly, though it’s hard to tell with the fur, indicating maybe she came from a lab or something.
She may well be the cutest cat who ever lived, though. So we put up with a lot.
“A lot” includes the fact that her favorite place to sleep is our bathroom sink. But it isn’t the only place. She searches for new spots now and then, and every time she picks a new one she favors it for a few days before moving on. This weekend, she decided she absolutely had to sleep on the soft blue blanket on our bed, specifically my side of the bed, if the door was open. (We have a folding door. Mouse has never learned how to open this but Hobbes and Captain Jack—especially Jack—know the trick and open it all the time.)
I offer this warning for your own good. No matter how cute your cat is, no matter how much you want her to stay comfortable in a nice spot, no matter how badly you feel that she’s basically just a cute fluffy game of Operation, do not hesitate to get into bed and do whatever it takes to fall asleep on your own terms. The cat will lie there as long as she wants otherwise, and you will not sleep well, if at all.
Brushing your teeth in the kitchen sink isn’t so bad.