Natalie Whatley

Throughout my life I have suffered bouts of sleeplessness. My body can be at the brink of exhaustion, begging to shut down, but the hamster on the wheel inside my mind keeps chugging away. Hamsters do not have long life spans, so I am starting to worry a bit – nothing like a little anxiety to aid an already-present sleep problem.

However, I’m learning to clear my mind and let my little rodent friend run. The trick is not allowing her to have a destination. Eventually she realizes she’s going nowhere fast and hops off the wheel. I wish I could be as smart.

But before that process takes place, I need darkness and relative silence. The tiniest of electronic-gadget lights must be behind closed cabinets, and my three kids know that making noise while mom tries to go to sleep is a crime punishable by . . . well, let’s just say it’s not pretty.

So, the kids, the husband, and even Scooter the dog know the drill. If I could get the latter two, who sleep on opposite sides of me, to quit snoring, my shut-eye quantities would increase three-fold. (Don’t tell Jeff I told you he snores.)

That brings me to a family member yet to be mentioned: Shadow the black cat. Recall that he showed up a couple of Halloweens ago, made himself at home, and adopted us. For a variety of reasons that I won’t delve into today, he’s required to wear a bell around his neck. And, he refuses to follow my sleep-time regimen, but also wants to spend his nights in my bedroom. (If I lock him out, he scratches on the door. Why do I know there are some feline haters out there saying, “That’d be one dead cat!”?)

Anyway, he starts off at the eastern-most edge of the master suite, the closet, and through the night moves his way to the western side, onto the bed, and atop my feet. Both of us are getting accustomed to this, and most nights he can hop on the bed without me hearing his bell.

But a few nights ago, I awoke to a different sound . . . something like a small metallic object clacking against a hard surface. Coming to, I discerned it was Shadow in the water closet getting a drink from the porcelain bowl.

I’d rather he not do that, but it wasn’t worth getting up over. I made a mental note to put the lid on the bowl at night and turned over to resume slumber.

In the next moments I drifted close to sleep only to be jarred to full alert by commotion nothing short of sheer panic meeting chaos. Splashes, frantic scratching, and the eventual flopping of a drenched body onto a splattered floor all added up to: somebody lost his balance and was getting a cold, unintentional bath!

I would’ve gotten up to help, but I was giggling (trying to be quiet and not wake others) and shaking uncontrollably. I knew Shadow was alive because he began darting around, bouncing off walls and basically trying to get away from what he was enjoying just moments prior.  

I settled down and eventually went back to sleep. The next morning, I picked up a still damp Shadow from atop my feet, chuckled, and told him his embarrassing secret was safe with me.

Oops! Well, at least I didn’t tell everyone he snores.

© 2010 Natalie Whatley

Tags: insomnia