Last Night

I had this dream. I was being suffocated, smothered by a pillow. Not an unusual dream for me. Someone’s always killing me. But what was a bit of out the ordinary is that I wasn’t struggling. Not at all. How odd is that? I always fight back.

Then I woke up enough to realize that I was having trouble breathing. There really was something on my face. And I still wasn’t struggling. I wondered why the house alarm hadn’t gone off. I know I set it. You had gotten in without me knowing it?

That’s when it finally sank in that the pillow pressed to my face was furry and purring. No wonder I wasn’t panicked. It was just Harry, coming to sleep on me as he’s taken to doing. Only he missed and landed on my nose instead of my forehead.

I reached up and petted him. Then I drew my hand away and wiggled my fingers. Good kitty, he followed them as hoped. Yay! I could breathe again. After a few attempts, he snuggled in beside my head, which is where I prefer he sleeps.

But can’t you just see the article in the paper now? Woman found smothered in her own bed with the alarm system still activated. No signs of struggle. Cause unknown. I wonder how long it would take them to figure out that the overly affectionate cat did it?