I woke up in the small hours of Monday morning with a feeling that something was wrong. The sense of wrongness was subtle, but pervasive, so I rolled over to turn on the bedside light…
…and something moved near my feet.
I leaped out of bed so quickly that I gave myself friction burns from the duvet.
“Meeeuuw?” said my uninvited guest.
“Glaaargh! Cat! Whatthefuuuuhck?” I responded. Articulate as ever.
Having satisfied myself that I had not, in fact, soiled my pyjama bottoms, I summarily ejected the ginger interloper from the flat and returned to bed, muttering darkly. Perhaps my actions seem harsh, but when I retire for the evening, I generally don’t expect to be harassed by anything larger than a mosquito.
I’m fond of cats, but I’m not prepared to share my bed with just any old pussy that shows up demanding snuggle time. I have standards.