Cleo, our entitled cat, was snuggled up above Ax’s head, between his pillow and the headboard. At about midnight Ax woke up and decided Cleo needed more room so he moved over to my side of the bed and reached over to stroke her. He wanted to discuss what it all meant: Was Cleo protecting him? Did she love him more tonight? Had she identified that he was old enough now for her to sleep on his head? On a larger scale, what did Cleo’s sleeping there augur?
I mumbled something about Cleo loving him very much and now it’s time to sleep. But he was tossing and turning, trying to pat her while getting into a sleeping position, flopping all over the bed, stomach, side, other side, near me, away from me, legs on me, then off. Cleo remained undisturbed.
Ax was churned up, not upset, but piqued, by the appearance of Cleo at the headboard, rather than at the foot of the bed as is her norm. He struggled to get comfortable without knowing what it meant, her change from her usual spot.
I can relate. Change happens and I get super-uncomfortable not knowing why or how I’m supposed to be under the new set of circumstances. I want to understand why things happen, or why they are how they are. I want to optimize everything. But some things, maybe most things, are in the cat-on-head category. I can simply notice the disruption and go on anyway.