Three nights ago....
At about 1:30 in the morning, I woke up as I tried to roll over in my sleep. I woke up because the blankets were tight around my legs, and I couldn't move them very well. I glanced down and saw a dark, round blob laying at my knees. Well, this is where Lilly usually sleeps when she chooses to hop in bed with us, so I assumed it was her. I pushed against her, which is typically sufficient to send her the message to move. She did not move. I pushed a little harder, bending my knees slightly and shoving her toward the size of the bed. No response. I reached my hand down and patted her to get her to move. Something was wrong. She not only did not move, but she was hard and stiff and not breathing. Crap. The cat was dead.
So, I poked at Lucas, who was sound asleep, because I was tangled up in the blankets with a dead cat. He grumbled and rolled over, but showed no signs of really responding, soI persisted. "Lucas, you have to wake up. There's a dead cat in the bed beside me."
Again, "Lucas, there's a dead cat in the bed beside me."
Pause.... buffering.... buffering.... "What bed beside you? We have a bed beside you?"
"NO!! THE CAT IS DEAD BESIDE ME IN THE BED!" Surely this would prompt a coherent response. Right? This is what I got....
"Then go get a bag and throw it away."
"WHAT! No, get up. You have to get up."
So, he reluctantly and slowly got up out of bed, making a pit stop in the bathroom before taking further action. While he was in the bathroom, however, something interesting happened. The 'dead cat' MOVED! It popped straight up in the air, and went flying across my legs and moved up toward the pillows. It was MEAGAN! The 'dead cat' was her head. Oops.... I had been kneeing her in the head, and smacking at her trying to get her to move.
"Never mind, Luc. It moved."
Now, keep in mind that, by this time, Meagan was now laying on the pillows in the middle. So when Lucas came back to bed, there was a new lump on his side of the bed that had not been there before. So, not knowing it was his daughter, he starts shoving the lump, and smacking at it and poking at it trying to get it to move.
"Why is my blanket lumpy?"
"It's Meagan. She was the cat." We cracked up laughing for a few minutes, then went back to bed. Poor Meagan slept through the whole thing and never knew she had been so poked and prodded. As for the cat, she is doing just fine.