Every night, about 3 minutes after AJ and I turn off the lights to go to sleep, Orrie jumps onto the bed. Normally fairly stealth, his entrance onto the bed is anything but. In fact, I would compare it to Kramer’s famous entrances on Seinfeld. Quiet, quiet, quiet, then whumppppthudoosh!There really should be some sort of big-voiced announcer to say “And heeeerre’s Orrie! Back into the arena of Sue and AJ’s bed!”
After his rather awkward entrance, this adorbale cat then proceeds to walk to the head of the bed, usually accompanied by one or two very demanding meows (in case we didn’t hear him jump up). There have been many times when I will open my eyes to find his black and white face about two inches away from mine, staring intently at me, his raspy purr serenading me like a well-loved lullaby, waiting for me to pet him. He meows again, right into my face, as if he can’t believe I had the nerve to fall asleep so quickly, and I’d better get my pet on if I know what’s good for me.
So I always oblige; he and I have an agreement from way back when he was a kitten that if he ever jumps up to see me, I will always reward him with some love. So I smooth his fur, and rub his belly, and play with his tail. When I get tired, I put my arm down. But he’s not satisfied, no, he always buries his face into my hand, or arm, or hip, or whatever is closest to him, demanding again that I give him attention one last time.
He then proceeds to find a place to rest, usually in the curve of my knees, and continues to purr, singing to me his contentment and giving his last effort to keep me awake.
