Made Paranoid By Cats

Sometimes, as I lie upon my cot at night, one or more of my cats come up on the bed, walk up beside me, and stare at me as if trying to communicate through telepathy. Sometimes, when I wake up in the morning, I will find one or more of my cats sitting and staring at me, as if trying to communicate through telepathy. Sometimes when I wake up, I have hair in my mouth. Sometimes the hair does not belong to me.

This makes me paranoid.

It also makes me wonder what my cats are doing as I sleep innocently before them. It makes me wonder if they are plotting. Or practicing mind control. Or grooming me.

The thought of them grooming me makes me paranoid.

Don’t judge me.

Just so you don’t think this is a new phenomenon in the Angst Which Is Betsy, I thought I’d share a poem I wrote a couple of years ago. I think I had also just seen the episode of the X-Files where Scully gets her little dog, after said little dog’s owner died and the little dog ate her. The dead owner, that is.

Hey, it made me think, that’s all.  Anyway, here’s the poem:




I believe that when I sleep,
My cats watch me
With pupils wide
And ears erect.


But is it fondly that they stare,
Or rather as they would watch
A particularly large
And juicy


My cats. I love them. But sometimes I wonder what they’re really thinking.


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