Mr. Snuffles sauntered past Sandy, leapt up onto the windowsill, and surveyed the remains of dinner that were still on the table. Exasperatedly, Sandy scooped him up with a grunt and deposited his 20-plus pounds on the floor. “Mom! This cat of yours is trying to eat the leftovers again!”
“Well, clear the table, then! That's always my incentive to get the dishes washed quickly!” came the retort from the other room. Then Sandy's mother appeared in the doorway, a harried look on her face. “Here are your socks. They were mixed in with mine.”
Sandy took the socks from her, and stuffed them in the top of the small gym bag by the door. “Thanks, Mom!” She turned and looked at her mother, a slightly worried look on her face. “You're sure you'll be alright?”
“I'll be fine! I've had sleepless nights before, and eventually I do get to sleep, you know.” But her Mother's eyes bore witness to the lack of sleep over the last few days.
“I just wish that the prescription the doctor gave you worked better,” her daughter said, clearing the table. “Marjorie said she had something that would help. You know – she's into all that herbal stuff, and she swears by it.”
“Well, maybe I can borrow some of it from her sometime and try it.” Sylvia took the dishes from Sandy and placed them into the dishwasher, scraping some of the remains into the garbage disposal.
Sandy's eyes widened. “Hey, how about if I call her and see if she has left her house already? If not, she can bring some over and you can try it this weekend while we're on the camping trip!”
“That's too much trouble!” her mother protested, but Sandy took the bit in her teeth and ran to call her friend.
In a few minutes, she returned with a grin. “Hey, I caught her just as she was putting the tent into her trunk. She's bringing some of it over so you can try it this weekend.” Sandy filled the soap dispenser in the dishwasher. “She says it's really safe, 'cause it's all natural.”
The dishwasher hummed and whirred, and in a few minutes the doorbell rang. Like a watchcat, Mr. Snuffles ran to the door, and then it opened slightly. A voice called, “Sandy? Are you ready to go?” Then a thin, freckle-faced girl in teeshirt and cargo shorts stepped in and closed the door behind herself. She shooed the cat away. “Go, Mr. Snuffles! You know I'm allergic!”
Sandy came into the room with her sleeping bag. “Hi, Marjorie! Did you bring that stuff for Mom?”
The girl dropped a small sandwich bag into Sandy's outstretched hand. “Yep, here it is. It ALWAYS works for me.” There were six or seven small brownish-green tablets in the bag.
Sandy examined the bag. “And it's safe, right?”
“Sure! All natural!” Marjorie fidgeted by the door, shifting her feet. “Look, we have to go, or we'll be late for meeting up with the others!” She picked up Sandy's gym bag and put her hand on the doorknob.
Sandy's mother walked into the room. “Hi, Marjorie! Looks like you're all ready for the camping trip!”
“That's for sure, Mrs. Jensen! I love it up at the Cove,” Marjorie agreed. “I gave your sleep aid tablets to Sandy.”
Sandy turned and handed the small bag to her mother, who examined the contents. “And how many of these do I take?” she asked Marjorie.
“Well, I usually take two, if I'm having real trouble falling asleep. Just one if I need to relax a little.” She reached for the doorknob again. “Mrs. J, I hate to run, but...”
Mrs. Jensen laughed and waved them out the door. “Go, go! Don't be late on my account.” She gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek as they stepped out the door. “See you Sunday afternoon, Sandy!”
Sandy's mother went into the kitchen and got a glass of water. She held two of the herbal tablets in her hand. “Well, after three nights with only about six total hours of sleep, I might as well start now,” she said to her cat as it wound itself around her ankles. After taking the tablets, she went and sat on the couch, watching a television show on the history of shoemaking that she hoped would help her to fall asleep.
After an hour of cobblers, heels, soles, and stitching, she sighed and looked down at the cat that was snuggled up against her side. “Mr. Snuffles, I don't think this is helping. Maybe I should go ahead and take my regular sleeping pill and go to bed, instead of sitting here on the couch.” Mr. Snuffles yawned hugely, and seemed to agree. She rose tiredly and got her prescription medicine from the cabinet.
As she looked at the bottle, she thought, Sylvia, your
daughter isn't going to be here tomorrow. It's
a Saturday, so you don't have to go to work.
It doesn't matter if you sleep in.
So, instead of the normal one-capsule dose, she shook two out into her hand and washed them down with a glass of water. Then, she got ready for bed and slid between the soft, smooth sheets.
Sylvia snuggled down into the mattress, and fluffed her pillow under her head. Her bed always felt so welcoming at first, but lately she would start to get nervous and wiggle, and somehow the sweet relaxation of bedtime that she had known for most of her life just wouldn't come to her. She yawned, and rolled onto her side.
She was glad Sandy had friends like Marjorie, willing to help out by driving her out to the campsite, or bring over some of her herbal sleep aid. Sylvia yawned again, and suddenly she realized with a mild sense of excitement that she was sleepy!
She felt the soft thump and movement that meant her cat had jumped up onto the bed, and then felt him snuggle in against her back. With a satisfied sigh, she reached over to turn out the small lamp on her bedside table.
Heavens, I am SO tired. The simple act of reaching out and twisting the switch on the lamp was much harder than usual. It took her two or three tries just to get the light turned off. She almost knocked over the alarm clock as she dragged her hand back to the bed.
That herbal stuff does work, I guess. She tried to readjust her pillow after rolling to one side, and it was difficult to move it. The blanket and sheet felt heavy, like they were soaking wet. She struggled, becoming concerned. Maybe I shouldn't have mixed those pills. Trying to move the sheet and blanket became more and more of a task, but finally she managed to roll over onto her back.
For a little while she lay there with her eyes closed, listening to the old house creak, to the alarm clock ticking, to Mr. Snuffles as he purred and breathed beside her. But she realized that, although she felt tired, totally enervated, she wasn't going to sleep.
Her eyes opened. The ceiling was the same ceiling that she had grown accustomed to seeing in the semidarkness of the room. She could just make out the lines that separated the ceiling tiles, in their orderly, staggered pattern.
Mr. Snuffles stirred beside her. Sylvia felt him get up and stretch, and then put his forepaws on her stomach. She started to turn her head to look at him, but found that she couldn't really move her head. She could move her eyes, though, so she rolled them down and to one side. The large, red tabby was regarding her with curiosity.
She tried to move her head again, but couldn't.
Now, she was really frightened. Try
as she might, she couldn't move her head or her arms.
She tried her legs and feet, but it was no use.
Her body was frozen in position. Her
anxiety level rose sharply. It's
OK, Sylvia, you can still breathe.
Her cat shifted more of his weight onto her stomach, leaning farther over to look into her face. She tried to tell him to move. Mr. Snuffles, get off! Move! You're too heavy! But the thoughts in her mind never managed to make it to her mouth.
Sylvia's lips moved only a little – a slow twitching that did not form words. And her breath was only a hiss through her lips and nose. What's wrong with me?! I've got to be able to move. What if I have to go to the bathroom or something? I can't just wet on myself in bed! But it was no use. Her body wasn't obeying her commands.
As panic rose in her once more, she fought to suppress it. This will wear off soon, Sylvia. You'll be OK... just don't ever mix that herbal stuff with your regular sleeping pills again! She tried once more to sleep, closing her eyes against the familiar sight of the ceiling.
Finally, relaxation began to take hold. She stopped fighting the lassitude that held her body captive, and gave over to it. She found that she even welcomed it. It was too strong for her to fight, and the surrender was a palpable relief.
Sylvia felt Mr. Snuffles stirring once more, and with an effort, she opened her eyes. He was climbing onto her chest. She felt his weight, felt the vibration of his purring motor, as he stepped up onto her body and stood in the center of her chest.
Mr. Snuffles... get off... nice boy, pretty cat... you're too heavy. Get down, boy. But the words never made it out of her brain. He commenced kneading the blanket over her chest, his forepaws working in the rhythmic motion of a nursing kitten.
Sylvia tried to purse her lips and blow at her cat's face. He hated that, and would always run from anyone who blew in his face. But struggle as she might, she couldn't move her lips that way, and the best she got out was a mild puff of air. Mr. Snuffles moved closer to her then, nosing around her mouth. Go away, Snuffles! she yelled in her mind, but he only looked at her and sniffed with more interest around her lips.
It must be the tuna salad we had for supper. Sylvia tried holding her breath, then, but her cat's substantial weight on her stomach and chest forced it out of her.
Tears began to trickle down from the corners of her eyes. I'm
helpless! What if the house catches on fire or something like that?
What if someone comes to the door? They
won't be able to get in and help me – they won't know I'm trapped like this!
She looked at her cat, who had at last stopped sniffing around
her mouth. Poor Mr. Snuffles.
He'll have to wait until I get out of this mess to feed him.
He's such a good cat, too!
As though hearing her thoughts, Mr. Snuffles lifted his bulk from her chest, standing and arching his back. Then, he looked directly down into Sylvia's eyes and stepped forward.
The cat eased his considerable body around onto Sylvia's
pillow. He rested his rear on the
pillow and slowly reclined across her face.
His hair tickled her nose and lips, and she tried to blow them away.
No, Mr. Snuffles, no... MOVE!
Then, with a loud purring sigh, he settled down across her face, his fat belly resting on her mouth and nose. At first she was disgusted, and then realized that breathing in his hair was not her problem. Her problem was breathing in anything.
Sylvia struggled to move, to shift her head to one side or the
other to clear a way for air. She
blew out air, and even tried to use her tongue to move the cat, but her tongue
was paralyzed, too. She heard his
purring grow louder as her panic grew stronger. I can't breathe... can't breathe!! Move!
The telephone rang, and Mr. Snuffles raised his head. It rang again, and on the third ring Sylvia faintly heard the answering machine pick up. She heard her own voice saying, “You have reached Sylvia and Sandy's house. We can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message, and we'll get back with you soon.”
“Mom, it's Sandy. I know you're probably taking your bath, but I wanted to let you know – Marjorie told me you shouldn't take that medicine along with your normal prescription for sleeping. I laughed at her and said you were too smart to do that, but she insisted that I call and tell you, anyway. So, I've told you. See you tomorrow night, Mom! Love you!” The answering machine clicked off.
Mr. Snuffles relaxed again, and closed his eyes. In a little while Sylvia made no more attempts to move her cat. Sylvia didn't care any more. She was finally getting some rest, even though it was of the permanent variety.
Copyright ©2005, Tony Burton All Rights Reserved