The Truth About How They Lie

It may not be apparent when they are loose in the bedroom or library, but the Felons do sleep. Much of the time, they are running about, their speeds increasing as their legs lengthen – almost daily, it seems – and their agility now is beginning to match their confidence. They launch themselves at the stairs by the bed and rarely miss them, thumping down the steps and hitting the floor running. They charge after each other, leap off beds, climb quilts, jump on my legs and crash into objects without effect. But they do sleep, usually suddenly and deeply.

Sometimes they sleep in my arms. Oleo prefers my hand, which makes sense.

Bisto likes to sleep farther up, which causes him to subside off my wrist, so I have to keep a semi-somnolent kitten from plunging to his death. Well, to a bad bump, anyway.

Rarely, they will share their perch (ie. me).

But more often, the kittens may be found on more steady platforms, together. Once they had the run (literally) of the bedroom, they quickly discovered the heated cat-bed.

Strangely, they will also slumber on top of the carrier. (I keep it out as it is convenient to shut them inside when I need to clean the bathroom without interference.) I have since taken to putting a folded towel there, for their comfort.

But most frequently, they will spend their restful moments in the new shaggy bed, which pretty much swallows them. The brothers like cuddling – in between bouts of whapping, slapping, smacking, biting, kicking, stomping and crushing – and seem quite fond of each other, if you catch them at the right moment.

And lastly, there are those times when the little Felons are just too tired to care how they rest. And, I suspect, to them, that’s probably all the time.