She jerked awake to the sound of her TV remote falling onto and knocking over the ceramic mug full of coffee sitting upon the floor next to the loveseat.
This was the third night she had come home from work and dozed off while channel surfing and the second night she’d soaked up old coffee out of the dated carpet with an old, ragged dish towel.
“Guess I need a stronger source of caffeine, huh, Pepperjack?”
Her cat, a plump orange tabby had arrived at her side, offering an affectionate nudge, maybe for moral support, as she sprayed Resolve onto the soiled carpet and scrubbed.
Being single and living alone, she talked to her cat on a fairly regular basis; he helped to fend off the cold pang of loneliness with his warm, furry existence and usually cuddly demeanor. She would never consider herself a crazy cat lady, though. Pepperjack was the only cat in her life. She removed the stain and stench of old coffee as best she could before pitching the dish rag into her dirty clothes hamper.
“Jeez, is it really 2:30, already?” She looked to Pepperjack, who was pawing at a lone string dangling from the rag, hanging halfway out of the hamper.
“I should probably try to get some actual sleep in my actual bed, eh?” Pepperjack stared up at her, mischief in his vibrant green irises and let out a gentle mew before going back to work on further destroying the helpless, coffee-saturated rag.
“Well I’m going to bed. You do whatever it is that cats do in the middle of the night.”
She pulled off her socks and jeans, and the sudden draft that sent shivers down her bare legs reminded her that she’d left the windows open while she’d dozed.
Tossing on her favorite plaid pajama bottoms and trading in her button-down shirt for an over-sized, faded Styx tee, she made a round through the chilly house, latching each window shut and closing all of the blinds, just to affirm that the biting November wind was an unwelcome guest in her home.
Pepperjack had since lost interest in his string nemesis and plopped down in front of his food dish in the corner of the kitchen, scarfing down a quick midnight snack.
“I’ll leave the door cracked, for whenever you wanna join me, Pepper.” His glowing eyes beamed back at her in acknowledgment as she flicked off the kitchen light and headed to her bedroom.
Hopping into bed, she slipped under the soft, thick comforter and arranged her mountain of pillows into an elegant chaos, one pillow under her head, one between her knees to keep them from touching while she slept, one against her back to feel secure, and one in her arms. A particularly disorganized person, this was the one OCD tick that she’d always had.
Once situated, she turned off the old brass lamp at her bedside and the whole room, aside from a sliver of light seeping in from the cracked bedroom door, was bathed in darkness.
She rolled over onto her side, pulling the covers up to her shoulder and scrunching up to keep warm in the still chilly room. The gentle, constant purring of the box fan positioned on the floor lulled her further from consciousness into the plane of slumber, and just as she was about to completely cross over, a sudden pressure pulled her back: a tugging on the portion of the comforter draped over the side of the bed. Weary, she groaned and snatched the blanket, pulling more of it onto the bed.
“Pepperjack, I left the door open so you could come SLEEP, not mutilate my blanket.”
The tugging stopped for a few seconds, but began again just as soon as she had begun to relax. She sighed.
Pepperjack had been a rambunctious kitten who had grown into a rambunctious cat, but he typically understood that when the lights went out, it was quiet time.
She slapped the bed near where she felt the tugging, hoping to scare him into the living room, but the tugging persisted.
“Seriously, Pepperjack?”
She gave the bed one more slap, as hard as she could. “STOP.” The tugging ceased.
“Finally…” she mumbled, rolling back onto her side. But just as she felt herself dozing again, the tugging was back.
Okay, if yelling at him doesn’t work, maybe the trick is to ignore him, she thought. She gave no inclination that she felt Pepperjack playing at the edge of the bed, made no movements, no sounds, didn’t even open her eyes. He’d have to get bored eventually.
It was then that she heard something that made her eyes shoot open: a deep growl coming from across the room, at the door ajar, the silhouette of Pepperjack, back arched, claws digging into the carpet.
The tugging hadn’t stopped.
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Credits to: iamtheego
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