I have no idea what possesses these cats sometimes.

Yesterday they had a lovely day. They played, napped, ate, were petted, the whole indoor cat-thing. But then last night they turned into The Spawn of All Annoying Things and, with meows like glass shards spearing my brain (think of amplified cat-voices in the tones of Fran Drescher and Gilbert Godfrey combined), proceeded to yowl outside the bedroom door at specifically-timed intervals all night long. They also rattled the door, and plucked the carpet loud enough to pull a person right up out of sleep over and over again.
 
What did they want? Any one of a million things: To come in, to eat again, be played with, petted some more, to tell me someone yakked up a hairball, to tell me the deer-possum-skunk-mice were outside, that they were bored, didn't like the door shut, didn't like the color of the carpet...whatever.
 
The good part is that no one was sick or hurt, the house wasn't on fire, and there was no bear skulking around eyeing them up as hors d'ouevres. The bad part is that they'll sleep all day today while I wander around dulled, hollow-eyed and witless from lack of sleep.

And they'll have no guilt over it, either. They'll just gaze up at me with their lovely clear, puzzled feline eyes as if to ask Gee, why so grumpy?

Just writing this puts me in a much better mood, and reminds me of why I love cats. 

They are immediate, unfathomable and uncontrollable. Funny, fuzzy and beautiful, too. 

Especially when they're all in there sleeping so peacefully.

I believe it's time to go run the vacuum. <EG>