Does anyone know if there is a boot camp for cats? If so, my brat-cat pack needs to go for some training. Since when is it okay to wake your human momma up three times in the middle of the night? I think the cats may have me in boot-camp!

SMB is out of town again and I think that may be why they have been acting up. They get extra needy when he is away and they know that I am the softie in the family and will sometimes let them sleep with me. Not this morning! After yelling at them through my sleep-deprived fog, I eventually got up and locked them in the guest bedroom. Take that, cats!

Hopefully, if I am someday blessed with children, I will not be such a meanie mommie. Kudos to all of you parents, particularly those with infants. How do you cope when your kids won’t let you sleep and you still have to get up and function at your job? Does your body eventually acclimate to being sleep-deprived and no longer crave eight hours a night? If I have less than six, I look like one of those zombies in Micael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ video.

Unfortunately, sleep has been eluding me lately, so I have been extra cranky with the naughty beasts. I’ve picked up extra hours at the day job, meaning I come in earlier and stay later. The stay later part is okay by me, but I am so NOT a morning person! I once read that most right-brained creative types are night-owls. I always get my second-wind around 10:00 p.m., so going to bed before midnight is early for me.

Does the brat-cat pack not realize that I’ve barely slept when they rattle the bedroom door and whine at 1:01 a.m., at 6:12 a.m., at 7:05 a.m.? Either they were trying to weasel an extra feeding out of me or they just wanted to sleep in my bed! The sleeping in bed with me would be fine if only they would SLEEP and not step on my head or purr like a motorboat in my ear, while drooling on my hand or kneading biscuits on my chest.

Yes, we have strange cats. So strange, in fact, that one of them has actually figured out how to open doors. So we have to lock ourselves in the bedroom at night so the little beasties don’t barrel down the door. I wish I had a video of Potter opening the french doors. I’ve watched him do it before. It’s basically a body slam coupled with the precise timing of reaching his right paw up to pull down the latch. (I just realized that my cat might be right-handed, I mean right-pawed). Apparantly they are all right-brained like me, which explains the late-night restlessness… but not their taste in beer…