Holy Sheet, It's Hard to Make a Bed

Let's get started

If you have a cat, you will know the difficulty and challenge of trying to make a bed.  Not only does it become a wrestling match for control of the bedding, it also becomes a case of deja vu as you have to smooth those sheets out over and over again.

There is no doubt about it, Purrkins LOVES making a bed.  If the crisp snap of a sheet being flung out reaches his ears through my dog-nose printed windows, he is at the door, meowing desperately to come in.  If Purrkins is already inside (which he normally is if I'm around - see previous blog on Klingons), I can hear the (in)delicate stomp of his jelly bean toes as he races through the house to the bedroom, launching his substantial body from the doorway to the mattress, sliding across like an eager baseball player sliding into home base.  Although slightly disappointed that my bed making activities are going to take longer than they should, quite frankly I'm seriously delighted as my feline friend and I have more play time together (this begs the question, who really is the Klingon?  I call it a tie.)

Look, I'm a tent.



Before I can get the fitted sheet tucked over the corners, the battle is on.  Claws out, tail swishing, he's propelling himself across the mattress, grabbing at the sheet. This is no innocent play for Purrkins - it's claws and teeth out, ready to kill the destroy.



Must. Kill. Finger.

Next is the top sheet.  A snap of the sheet into the air before it slowly descends to settle on the bed revealing a large, pokey, purring lump.  The moving mound has four legs up and a tail flicking back and forth like a drunk playing dress-up under his mother's linen.  I take this opportunity to flick his ears, poke his fatness and pull his tail as he flounders about trying to latch on to me.  Despite my superior size, wit and intelligence, I clearly have inferior reflexes, and am often forced to deposit small droplets and smears of blood on the freshly laundered linen as my flesh is pierced with great abandon.

Still crazy.

Eventually either Purrkins tires and toddles off to eat again as he has expended calories (at this stage his physique will only survive a 30 day famine, he must top up to 32 days) or I decide that I still have a lot of work to do and must get on with it.  Moving him is not always successful as he starts afresh, anointing the bed with cat hair and claw holes. There is one solution that almost always works.  Never underestimate the power of a laundry basket.  Purrkins loves a laundry basket almost as much as he loves making a bed.  And look, he likes to try and get my fingers through the holes in the side....I guess my work can wait for a little while longer - this cat needs to play.

Watch the videos below for Purrkins in slo-mo action and at normal speed (ha ha, if they worked - I'm so technological!)