So my cat, aka The Brat, is sick. Nothing serious, just a mild cold that has her sneezing frequently, though she’s just as active as ever. Sometimes her sneezes send spittle flying over her fur, which she’ll then groom right off, which I think cannot be sanitary. Then again, we’re dealing with animals to whom licking equals sanitizing process, so maybe I’ve got it all wrong. Anyway, the other day while she was sitting on the window ledge looking outside, she almost sneezed herself off her perch. Yeah, I laughed. What? It was funny!
The Brat is on most days a persnickety, aloof ball of floof — adorable and yet completely immune to cuddles. Which can be sadly frustrating when I want to shower her in kisses and she’s all, Aw, Mom, geroffme! This is so not cool! Ooh, birds! Really, I think she just barely permits me to hug her; it certainly ain’t for her benefit. So the one nice thing about when she feels a little under the weather (and I mean a case of the sniffles, nothing more) is that she gets more affectionate.
Like the other night when I was getting ready to sleep. Normally she pretends to be wholly unconcerned with the whole bedding-down process, although I can totally see her eyeing me, belying her feigned indifference — and then she sneaks into bed after I’ve settled down. Because she’s up and about before I am in the mornings, sometimes I wonder if she thinks she’s fooling me. WHATEVER, CAT. I wake up in the middle of the night when you’re draped all over my legs, YOU BIG FAKER.
But with her being all snuffly, she promptly laid down on my chest for once, curling up as close as she could to my neck, tucking herself right under my chin. I pet her as she purred, and I thought to myself, yay, she’s being sweet! How cute! We are bonding!
And then she sneezed on my face.