Four a.m. Woken by the sounds of cats fighting outside the house. Try to ignore it. No use. The screams and wails cut through the night at the volume of a fighter jet in take off. I get up and stomp to the terrace, searching in the dark for something to throw. The outside table? Too big. A flower pot? Too breakable… I am just contemplating throwing myself when there is a mad scramble in the bushes and the cats come flying out, one chasing the other. They race off down the lane and silence returns.
But it’s too late. Thirsty and awake now. Return to bed after taking on water, but it’s late June and hot. The fan is off, don’t want to turn it on in case I wake Neil. Lie there forcing myself to go back to sleep. And then there’s that sound we all dread: zzzzzzZZZZZzzzzzz – mostquito attack. Wave arms around uselessly cursing the thing. Silence. zzzzzzZZZZZzzzzzz – it’s back.
‘I thought it was funny… he he he he.. malaka.’
Someone is talking in their sleep. Give up on that room and try getting back to sleep on the sofa. It’s a cooler room. Dozing off when cat jumps merrily on my head. Throw it off. Cat wants feeding, it knows that: big human moving around at night or early morning = food. It’s wrong this time. Just dozing off when zzzzzzZZZZZzzzzzz. Reach for can of environmentally and mosquito unfriendly spray and wave it wildly over my head while holding my breath.
Sweat trickles down my back and a Gilbert and Sullivan song comes to mind: ‘When you’re lying awake with a dismal headache and repose is tabooed by anxiety…’ The cat tiptoes up onto the back of the sofa to watch over me. Start to doze off. Mind alerts me to the fact that I am falling asleep and I wake up again. Then, before I know it, I am dreaming about cat food. |
