Cats never really sleep. It may well seem that they sleep sixteen hours a day but when you walk past sleeping cats, their eye slits widen ever so slightly. They're watching. They know where you are. They keep track.
I'm preparing for a major journey -- a long time away from home that requires careful planning and packing. Although I'm not leaving for several days, I've put a suitcase and some required items on the guest bed.
And closed the door.
Both my cats are pissed. They go to the closed door and give me baleful looks over their shoulders.
The other evening, they both stood there, giving me stares of utter disgust. Guinness, always more vocal, mewed me out. It was unmistakeably cat cursing.
One night Herbie managed to butt the door open and promptly sat in the suitcase.
I give up.
They know what a suitcase means. However careful I might be to sneak into the room to pack, they'll show up. And slip in-- into the room, and onto the folded clothes, and into the suitcase.
I just hope airport security has no objection to cat hair.
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