To sleep perchance...

When I happen to mention to other cat owners that I shut my cats out of the bedroom at night, they tend to look at me with a piteous look and make noises that are supposed to make me feel like I'm missing out on one of life's great pleasures by denying myself the opportunity to snuggle up with these fluffy bundles of joy.

Now, I'm not denying that during daylight hours, the gentle chirruping, chasing each other back and forth across every stick of furniture I own (now all ruined by a million tiny claw marks but hey ho) and tossing balls up in the air then pouncing on them with all the enthusiasm of a hungry lion on a wounded gazelle, amuses me no end. The affectionate moments, where they spreadeagle themselves on my lap in order to receive the exact required amount of petting but absolutely no more than that is also very sweet and I will happily deny myself any drinks or snacks I'd otherwise like to have until they have moved off of their own accord so as to avoid disturbing them.

But at night time, call me old-fashioned, I like to sleep. It is, I believe, a basic human need and, as has been discussed here previously, a hugely enjoyable exercise. Additionally, my job of choice does occasionally necessitate my getting up in the middle of the night to attend births and having had even a small amount of sleep can be a considerable advantage. And having two cats running around me, fighting, or padding slowly over my wishing-I-was-comatose body, often with paws - and indeed a pause - on my head has a tendency to interrupt this process. I've tried, I really have. In fact, last night I left my door open and by 5am, when I was lying awake, having found it necessary to contort my body into an highly unnatural, and indeed uncomfortable, position in order to accommodate the two now repose cats, who had spent the rest of the night trying to eat my hair and trying to reduce my Ikea chest of drawers back to splinters, I ended up chasing them from the room and shutting the door with relief.