Perils of Caffeine in the Evening

Yeah, I know it’s supposed to be Friday cat blogging, but I’ve always hated deadlines.  The only reason I’m doing it at all is that I was able to catch our little miscreant slurping at his favorite watering hole, the papyrus plant in our living room (click to enlarge).  It may be his favorite only because he can’t get into the toilet very often.

When I wake in the middle of the night, I often head downstairs to bunk out on the couch in the living room and read or surf my way to sleep.  I’ll be lying there in silence, and I’ll hear this tromptromptromptromp down the stairs, across the hardwood floor - you’d think an army was coming through the house, but it’s only this 7-pound cat.

The routine is always the same: first to the litter box (scritch, scratch sound like industrial excavation), then out to the kitchen to fuel up on crunchies (sound like rock being pulverized into pea gravel), over to the papyrus plant (sound of Homer Simpson with a can of Duff), and, finally, tromp, tromp up the stairs again.  This might happen twice in the same night.

A person can’t sleep with all that racket.