Sleeping with cats

[rolanni]

So, Belle is our Champion Napper here at the Cat Farm.  She really enjoys her naps, and often does two at once.  She seems to prefer company, but will happily nap alone, if that's how the dice roll.

I don't even have a rating as a Napper -- it's a tough field -- but I do like company in my poor efforts, and Belle has taken to tutoring me in the fine points.

I've noticed a couple of things, napping with Belle, that I don't notice when napping with the other cats -- or, in fact, when I go solo.

First is that her purr is incredibly soothing.  I'll lie down with my head awhirl -- the normal state of the inside of my head is a kind of barely controlled thought-twist, which, like the ringing in my ears, can't ever be said to go away entirely; the range of action is something like:  Kind of Loud, Loud, Awfully Loud, Way too Loud, and Batten the Hatches.

But, Belle's purrs cut through all that noise.  It takes a few minutes, but she's also a champion purr-er, and has real staying power.  And she manages to achieve silence inside my head, a state I've noticed now several times in the millisecond before the purr does its final work and puts me to sleep.

The other thing I've noticed when napping with cats is the quality of dreams.  Despite my whirlwind head, I very rarely dream, or -- for those who insist that everyone Does Too dream -- remember my dreams.  If I've had cat assistance, I do dream, and often remember my dreams, and I wake up a shade more relaxed than I would do, sleeping alone.

Belle-induced dreams though, are -- a little different.

They are almost all in the genre of Saving the Kittens.  I have, in recent dreams, rescued kittens who were stuck behind a large appliance; stood between kittens and a large, noisy machine; and moved a number of kittens to a place of safety after one was grabbed by a Bad Person and thrown.

These are not restful dreams, though they are infused with a sense of purpose and determination.  I wake up a little more alert, it seems, and attentive to possible threats -- to the kittens.  It's an odd feeling, though not necessarily unpleasant.

. . .and I wonder if these are shared dreams -- that is, if Belle, having been a Mom Cat in what I know to be a very safe place for cats, still reviews these themes in order to keep her edge, if, yanno, kittens fall into her way again.

On the other hand, it could just be my subconscious having some fun with association.

Either way, it's striking and notable, and I have, therefore, noted it.

Comments

[gerald heaton (from livejournal.com)]

I have a snorer, a purr-er, and a wheezer (18yo) that share the king size bed with us (grudgingly).

They do comfort quite well, don't they?

[timepiece]

Oh, purring cats, there is no substitute.

And re: cats and dreams: If you can obtain a copy, I think you would really enjoy one of my favorite children's books, which was called Algonquin Cat, by Val Schaffner and Hilary Knight. The idea that cats communicate with each other through dreams ... and that communication transcends time and space. And the illustrations are gorgeous. Amazon evidently has copies for 1 cent plus shipping - well worth it.

[rolanni.livejournal.com]

I'll need to pick up a copy. It's long been the conceit, here at the Cat Farm, that the new crop of cats have access to the notes (aka "the book") of former Cat Farm residents. We sometimes recognize behaviors of those former residents, and the question, "Did you find (Archie's/Arwen's/Patia's/etc) book?" is quite commonly asked.

[timepiece]

Oh, yes, that is precisely what the book posits. The main character, Hamlet, learns things from his predecessor, Rusty. And others.

My own dear cat was named Hamlet after this book. So of course looking at it now is twice as sweet.

If you have not found it by then, I will bring you an extra copy at RavenCon!

[timepiece]

Having delivered said book on Saturday, I hope you've had a chance to read it, and that you enjoyed it. Honestly, I don't see how any cat-lover could possibly not enjoy that book, it's delightful.

[badgermirlacca.livejournal.com]

This must be the Day of Cats.

There's an article today on the front page of the Wall Street Journal about writers and cats: http://www.wsj.com/article_email/in-the-world-of-cat-fiction-fur-flies-over-whether-stars-get-speaking-roles-1456799256-lMyQjAxMTA2MzAxMTMwMDE2Wj

One of my other lists asks if we talk to cats. (To which I say: Duh.)

And now this.

There's something about a cat's purr that is incredibly soothing. And I think Belle is sharing her momcatness with you. High honor!

[scarlettina.livejournal.com]

I get my best sleep, whether napping or night sleeping, with my cats. Sophie has taken to sleeping right next to my shoulder, and Zeke in the crook of my knees, and I find that surrounded by my feline family I sleep very well indeed.

[celticdragonfly.livejournal.com]

I understand this very well. I have slept with my cats for most of my life. The last dozen years or so, it's been with Karina. Karina took to sleeping on my butt to enforce my nap times, once my youngest went to kindergarten and I could start repaying that sleep debt. When my younger husband wanted cats out of the bedroom at night, to help his allergies, I took to sleeping almost entirely during the day, so I could sleep with them. When we decided he needed the bedroom cat free entirely, I set up the Nap Room, with a perfectly comfy bed for me, and Karina would follow me in and leap up on the bed with me. Her purring helped me get over the ptsd from the arson attempt on our house, and got me to where I could eventually go to sleep at night again, and even turn out the lights.

Sadly, now it's rarely happening that she'll sleep with me at all in the nap room. She's going on 18, and is ... in the process of dying from kidney disease. She fusses and meows at me a lot, but never seems to want to be held anymore. She rarely will sleep with me, even if one of my husbands brings her in and puts her there once I'm in bed. She mostly just lies on the table edge next to my desk.

[rolanni.livejournal.com]

Mozart did the same thing when we was dying of kidney disease, at 16. He was very fretful and wanted me to *do* something, which of course, I was doing what I could. He would still sleep with me, curled up tight on my shoulder, but then would get angry at me when my shoulder went numb and I had to move.

Sigh. It's a difficult time. Beat to you and Karina.

cat dreams

[catherine ives (from livejournal.com)]

all very interesting to me who, as y'all know, I'm allergic to cats. Wishing very sweet dreams to Karina who I hope remains comfortable. I sleep with three dogs who are a very calming influence though, I'm sure, very different.

Purrs to Belle Momcat. Keep those kittens safe!

[thewol.livejournal.com]

I had a cat like that. His name was Jett Catt. He was your classic grey and black mackerel tabby feral cat. He and his littermate sister Shadow Bugbane Wisepaws, born to a friend's "found" cat, were the first cats I had as an adult. He was a sweet, though skittish soul. The "other" pillow on my bed was always perpendicular to the headboard and positioned to keep my back warm. The spot beside my pillow quickly became his spot. I would rouse in the night, put my hand up into a warm belly full of cat fur, and his motor would kick in. He had a loud, sonorous purr that rumbled around in the box springs quite resonantly. On August 31, 2001, I had an emergency appendectomy. The night after, I awoke in a strange place, awash with pain medications, put my hand up by my pillow and found nothing but bed. I experienced such an intense pang of loneliness and longing for my kitty boy. When my sister-in-law, a cat person, lay dying of a brain tumor in late 2004, I recorded half and hour of sweet Jett's purr on a hand held recorder (two sides of a minicassette) and played it by her ear. It seemed to ease her. In 2009, diabetes stole my Jett from me (he was only 12 years old) and I set him free to cross the Rainbow Bridge. His sister was already there waiting for him. He has since been joined by two more. I still miss him.