So now he's back from the vet, drugged up and defenseless. Since he's got a fentanyl patch on, we've got to keep him locked up and away from the other cats and the TODDLER. So he's locked in two rooms of the basement. Poor kitty. Being the cat-hater that I am, I didn't want the poor baby to be alone all night, so I slept downstairs with him.
Around 11pm, he curled up on top of my ankles. Maybe around midnight I managed to slip out from under him, so he was curled up NEXT to my ankle. At 3:33am, he was STILL curled up on my ankles. At 5:30 my alarm went off (which is to say, my cell phone rang). He was no longer on the bed with me.
I looked around and saw him across the room in his temporary litter box. No, he wasn't using the litter box for it's intended use. Rather, he was curled up, happy as a pig in sh-- oh, yeah, happy as a pig in mud. Mind you, he wasn't exactly in the litter itself... he had pulled down the corner of the liner, so he was actually curled up on plastic. It was obvious that he had been asleep for a while and woke up because I woke up. But it took a while before he got up and stretched.
Honestly, this was a FINE example of why it is essential that I have a camera phone. It was SO funny, but I couldn't exactly go upstairs, find the digital camera, turn it on, come downstairs, and hope that Nibbler would still be curled up in the litter box waiting for his Kodak moment. Oh well.
Fentanyl patch comes off tomorrow and then I imagine he can rejoin the other kitties (and the small child).