You're (possibly) thinking, "Oh look, a cute orange tabby."
Or maybe you're thinking, "Oh great, a pet story. When is this blog going to have a point?"
But I'm thinking, "Oh look, a projectile in the night."
At an unknown hour early this morning, that "cute orange tabby," frequently known as shithead, started his nightly rounding of the heads, the point of which is to get me to feed him. If I make a quick move that rustles the sheets, he will vault off the bed towards the hallway. He usually returns about 30 seconds later to continue manically circling my head, pausing with each lap of the bed to knead on my pillow. A few minutes into this game, I made a move towards him, raising my head at the exact moment that he pushed off. It would have been fine except the trajectory of his leap was directly in line with my forehead. 11 pounds of cat pile driving into your face is not what I would call restful.