The Joy of Insomnia

Sleeping with kitties …

Sometimes when I really need a good night’s sleep, I shut my bedroom door. If I don’t, my younger kitty, Awesy, will stealthily crawl up under the covers at the foot of my bed until he reaches my toes, which he considers fair game…

Gleefully he pounces and if I am fast asleep it is hair-raising to feel his teeth, just as sharp as his claws, nipping at my digits.

Tonight, my door is open and as Awesy silently approaches my extremities, 
I beat him to it and scruff his neck. He good-naturedly submits and allows me to lift him up and plop him on my chest. All 10 pounds of him stands atop me as he gazes into my eyes.

Awesy as a kitten, only 4 pounds back then.

After a bit, he decides to settle in. He swirls in circles until he carves out a proper spot between my sternum and my jugular notch. Then he proceeds to warm my heart with his subtle, steady purr.

We remain like this for a good 20 minutes or so. Eventually he repositions, curving his supple back against my rib cage. I wrap my arm companionably round him, reach over and turn off the bedside lamp.

The room goes pitch black. Snuggling with Awesy becomes a purely kinesthetic experience. Visual deprivation heightens the sensual pleasure of touching his toned torso, plump padded paws, wiry whiskers, tender ears, lean limbs and slithery tail.

My arm lies along the length of his belly, ensconced in the caress of his feathery fur. He quivers as he stretches a leg, afterwards pressing his foot against my upper arm with a pleasing push-push resistance.

My right hand is on Awesy’s chest and his heart beats rhythmically in my palm, filling me with joy.

His trust, his warmth, his rhythm, his melting relaxation arouses love, love and more love. In a fit of feline ecstasy, Awesy rolls onto his back, tummy up, four legs dangling in the air. I feel his hoofers, resilient and pliable. The pleasure is immeasurable. My fingers trail across his body, gently rubbing his tummy and he receives my love with innate cat wisdom.

Where does the palm of my hand stop and the softness of his fur begin?

Our relationship is, literally, sensational. I run my hand along his back, finger his pawpaws lovingly, then move up and find his fine head. I stroke his third eye. He likes that. The back of my hand is tickled by his whiskers. His breath moves in and out, like a wispy breeze filling me with the delicacy and mystery of life. The tip of his nose is wet.

Linguini (Awesy) and fusilli (Smudges)

I feel for his ears, so velvety and tender. Though Awesy is now two years old, he still feels like a gangly kitten as he stretches to an impossible length. One more repositioning manuveur and then, limp with satisfaction, he slides one of his legs along my arm in slow motion.

We are intertwined and intermingled, as if in a sensory deprivation tank, floating timelessly in Love.

He squeezes my arm in a powerful leg lock and emits throaty trills of contentment. Now, somehow, my right thumb and forefinger are cupping his jaw, a pointy polished tooth presses against my finger.

I reach for the iPad with my left hand. Awesy’s warm breath ebbs and flows as sleep envelops him more deeply. I type this for you, dear reader, left-handed, happily hunting and pecking in rhythm with his steady purr.

What could have become insomniathrive is instead a full-blown love fest.

Potential sleeplessness becomes a peak experience.

Instead of letting my brain interpret Awesy as an intrusion, my heart insists that he deserves my complete attention.

Ego wanted us to go downstairs for some late night Netflix binging. But heart knew there was nowhere we needed to be, except loving each other. Staying in this beautiful late night moment transcends time. Can’t resist sharing that with you. And now …

Wanna join us for a snack?