Attack at Early O'Clock

Last couple of nights, since the weather hasn't been cat friendly, Tess has taken to coming into my room around 4 O'clock in the morning to sleep, which is fine, especially if she decides to sleep on the window sill or the end of the bed. Everyone's happy.

Except that she isn't doing that, she's trying to sleep on my face.

Nothing like a face full of fur to really wake you up in the morning.

Yesterday we compromised on her sleeping on my front, which given that I fell asleep to 7 O'clock goes to show how much I needed to sleep, or that the oxygen deprivation just got to me. This morning however I managed to loose ownership of most of my pillow and spent a good 2 hours hanging off the edge of the bed while a half stone ball of fluff stretched out quite comfortably.

Sometimes I'm not sure who owns who.

Typical

These things always happen over the Christmas period. Last night at the end of Boxing Day dinner one of my wisdom teeth decided to give up the ghost and crumble. It doesn't hurt at all, but I'm missing half a molar and the rest does not look pretty.

I've not had a single problem with my teeth ever, 27 years and not one filling. (I was quite proud of that.) But this wisdom tooth is in an awkward as hell place, really closed in and I've never really been able to get at it all that well.

Doesn't hurt, but I Can. Not. Stop. Poking. It.

God knows when I'll be able to get a dentist appointment without having to pay an arm and leg for it, I think it'll have to come out entirely which while intellectually I know this is a good thing, injections into my gums fill me with unending terror that could well convert me into a panicked 5 year old refusing to open my mouth. Gah.

In other news, I've ordered a new laptop from Dabs which looks very pretty and should come tomorrow.

Harry on ther other hand has decided to scoot off somewhere. Christmas I think got too much for him and he disappeared last night and we haven't seen him since. Both Dad and I have done the requisite checks on the road and wandered around the Garden endlessly to look for him, we're only in the moderate concern stage of the Missing Cat Procedure at the moment as its a mild night and more than likely he's just in a huff about the disrupted routine over Christmas and decided to beg for food from one of his other houses. He'll probably turn up tomorrow, whine his head off and eat enough to feed a small african country.

Harry the Wonder Cat

Some time ago, Harry arrived and made himself at home on the sofa, having had enough of two doors up locking him out at night and their insistence in owning a dog.

He's quite a good natured Cat with little evidence of anything going on between his ears. He eats copiously, sleeps alot and generally is very easy to be around. He just really doesn't like any sort of physical contact. It took us two months to even approach him without him running off. Slow process, but he doesn't bolt when one of us comes into the room. This has been the status quo for some time, he'll tolerate the odd pat on the head or scratch if he's in the right mood, but nothing more.

A little while ago, I decided this was going to have to change, mainly because it was my seat on the sofa he'd stolen and I rather wanted it back. So every night, or every time I've managed to get hold of him, he's had an enforced sit on my lap. Its taken a couple of weeks of slowly building up the time, but last night he finally curled up and went to sleep for about half an hour. I'm really quite chuffed now. He's never going to be a lap cat, but yay for progress.