Last night I needed a good night’s sleep. The night before I didn’t get much sleep (thanks to my brother’s all-night snorefest at the cottage) and I’m trying to get over a nasty cold. I slept for ten glorious hours last night. But they were not uninterrupted hours. Every night, sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Hobbes comes into our room, hops up on our bed and starts to purr in our faces. He kneads our chests and wakes us up to cuddle almost every single night. And I let him. Steve often sleeps through it, but I can’t. Hobbes is not a snuggler. He rarely snuggles during the day anymore and so our ungodly-hour cuddles are all I get for days on end sometimes.
It’s very peculiar.
The irony is, I’m a damn good cat-cuddler! But I have a cat who doesn’t appreciate my talents. My grandparents have five cats who do (7 if you count the ones that they feed outside), so I get my cat-cuddles at the cottage and come home to Hobbes covered in other cat fur. At first I hoped his jealousy would spur him to want to snuggle, but I’ve learned he could care less. Usually cats will sniff you from head to toe if you’re covered in another cats fur, but not him. He’s definitely happy to see us, running to greet us at the door and rolling over on his back, but no snuggles.
I can only hope that this will change with age. As he leaves kittenhood and his boundless desire to play behind, maybe he will become a lap cat and curl up with me on the couch.
Otherwise his cuteness is just downright cruel. Who wouldn’t want to snuggle with this?! :