Holmes has discovered that my CPAP machine is fun, especially at 2:00 a.m. I don’t use a whole nose mask; rather, I use one with small nasal pillows that is less cumbersome and doesn’t make me look like a BORG. The CPAP works by keeping continual positive air pressure, so your airway stays open and you don’t stop breathing (F.Y.I.-Breathing is highly recommended to those who want to live). The excess air is blown out of the small frame that holds the pillows and air supply together…and a particular orange kitten loves it.
I wake up to see a little orange paw reach over and pat at the air stream; pat…pat…pat. After shooing him away the first time, here comes the paw again, pat…pat…pat… Eventually, he will put his face into the air stream because it is fun, as if he is trying to lick the air. Last, he put his nose directly into the opening for the air, and we end staring at each other, nose to nose as it were, from about 3 inches apart. “I’m wide awake!” he tells me with wide eyes and fluffed whiskers, “Why aren’t you?”
Hamilton, curled up on the bed by my head, does not intervene. He knows the kitten will eventually tire of the dad-air-game, and his next stop will be to dive-bomb Hamilton’s head. The longer I have to deal with this crazy kitten, the less he will have to.
Holly, Mittens, and Belle attribute all the commotion on my side of the bed to some weird game less mentally developed males play in the middle of the night. Their smug female superiority radiates like a palpable aura.
*Note: Any spelling or punctuation mistakes are because I didn’t get enough slepp, and I am writing this in a profound stupor.
Holmes has discovered that my CPAP machine is fun, especially at 2:00 a.m. I don’t use a whole nose mask; rather, I use one with small nasal pillows that is less cumbersome and doesn’t make me look like a BORG. The CPAP works by keeping continual positive air pressure, so your airway stays open and you don’t stop breathing (F.Y.I.-Breathing is highly recommended to those who want to live). The excess air is blown out of the small frame that holds the pillows and air supply together…and a particular orange kitten loves it.
I wake up to see a little orange paw reach over and pat at the air stream; pat…pat…pat. After shooing him away the first time, here comes the paw again, pat…pat…pat… Eventually, he will put his face into the air stream because it is fun, as if he is trying to lick the air. Last, he put his nose directly into the opening for the air, and we end staring at each other, nose to nose as it were, from about 3 inches apart. “I’m wide awake!” he tells me with wide eyes and fluffed whiskers, “Why aren’t you?”
Hamilton, curled up on the bed by my head, does not intervene. He knows the kitten will eventually tire of the dad-air-game, and his next stop will be to dive-bomb Hamilton’s head. The longer I have to deal with this crazy kitten, the less he will have to.
Holly, Mittens, and Belle attribute all the commotion on my side of the bed to some weird game less mentally developed males play in the middle of the night. Their smug female superiority radiates like a palpable aura.
*Note: Any spelling or punctuation mistakes are because I didn’t get enough slepp, and I am writing this in a profound stupor.