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Caturday Pootie Diary: Healthy sleep [1]
['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.']
Date: 2025-05-17
Freddie sat quietly on the kitchen floor and watched me pack my lunch and microwave my breakfast. “Where are you going?” he asked, finally.
I looked down at him and then back to my lunch bag. “Work,” I said. “Where I always go.” The microwave beeped and I took one step over to open it. I peeled the egg out of the sandwich and tossed it back in the microwave on a small paper towel. The egg always takes a little longer than the rest of the sandwich.
“Make sure you take a few naps,” Freddie advised.
A gentle reminder of how we do things: 🐱🐶🐦 Do not troll the diary. If you hate pootie diaries, leave now. No harm, no foul.
Please do share pics of your fur kids! If you have health/behavior issues with your pets, feel free to bring it to the community.
Pooties are cats; Woozles are dogs. Birds... are birds! Peeps are people.
Whatever happens in the outer blog STAYS in the outer blog. If you’re having “issues” with another Kossack, keep it “out there.” This is a place to relax and play; please treat it accordingly. There are some pics we never post: snakes, creepy crawlies, any and all photos that depict or encourage human cruelty toward animals. These are considered “out of bounds” and will not be tolerated. If we alert you to it, please remember that we do have phobic peeps who react strongly to them. If you keep posting banned pics...well then...the Tigress will have to take matters in hand. Or, paw.I snatched an apple out of the bowl on the kitchen island and dropped it into the lunch bag, then satisfied that I had enough to eat for the day, I zipped it closed. The microwave signaled that the egg was done.
I snatched an apple from the bowl on the kitchen island and dropped it into the lunch bag. Satisfied that I had enough food for the day, I zipped it up just as the microwave sang out it’s your food is ready song. “No can do,” I said, opening it. “They frown on me sleeping on the clock.”
“Why would you sleep on a clock?” Freddie wondered, his eyes following every move I made.
I wrapped my breakfast sandwich so I could eat it in the car, then looked down at him. “That’s not what that means.”
“Human nonsense?”
“Some of the worst human nonsense.”
I slung the strap of my lunch bag over my arm and picked up my book. “I have to go,” I told Freddie. “You be a good boy today.”
“I’m always a good boy,” he muttered, mildly disgruntled.
I nodded. “Sure,” I said.
He gasped in outrage as I stepped past him. “See you tonight!” I called over my shoulder.
“Human,” Freddie said about ten hours later. “We have to talk.”
He was sitting in the gap between my legs on the reclined chair facing me. “This sounds serious,” I said, setting down my phone.
“It’s about your health,” he continued.
“Is this an intervention?” I asked, trying to lighten up the mood.
“Yes.”
He stared hard into my eyes. “You have to sleep more,” he told me.
“Freddie. I sleep plenty.”
He put a paw on my arm to silence me. “You have to sleep during the day, too. It’s for your health. And so you’ll have energy to hunt or escape a bigger predator.”
“Those are not really human concerns,” I tried to explain.
“It’s dangerous to sleep all at once,” he continued. “Don’t shake your head!” he warned.
“Right. Sorry. Do go on.”
"Short naps,” he went on. “Spaced out throughout the day. You don’t have to sleep too much — eighteen to twenty hours will keep you fully rested.”
I rubbed my temple. “That’s not really possible for me.”
“And then there’s where you sleep!” he cried, really warming up to his topic.
“On my bed?”
“In the same place! Every time you sleep!” he threw his head back caught up in his own dramatics.
“I sleep on the couch sometimes,” I said, feeling a bit defensive.
"Do you know how easy you make it for predators to find you?!”
“What are these predators?” I asked, throwing my hands up. “Crickets? Lizards?”
“There could be lions!” he growled. “Wolves!” He ducked his head and lowered his voice. “Ducks!”
“I don’t know how to get you to understand that the ducks can’t get in the house. We don’t leave the doors open.” I said, patiently.
“They are wily and sneaky,” he whispered.
“They aren’t here and can’t hear you,” I said.
“Shh!” he said, his head whipping around as if he expected a duck to be sneaking up on him from behind. He turned back to me. Taking a deep breath, he said, “you have to be more careful.”
“With where I sleep,” I said.
“With everything!” he yelled.
“I thought this was about my health,” I said, slowly.
"You’re health is important,” Freddie lectured. “But health is nothing without safety. From ducks,” he added.
“Right,” I said. I looked at my watch. “It’s bedtime,” I told him.
He gasped.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re so dramatic,” I said.
“You’re so stubborn!” he shot back.
“Are you coming to bed with me?”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Yes,” he said, finally.
Happy Caturday, Peeps! I’d appreciate it if you’d send some good vibes Freddie’s way. He’s having some dental work done (possibly as you read this!) and was denied breakfast, stuffed in the hated carrier, and dropped off at the vet for the whole day. They’re also putting him under anesthetic, which is a little risky for him because of his diabetes and heart murmur. I am, predictably, a mess.
[END]
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