I Now Know Why Cats Sleep All Day

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More than half of all cats sleep between 12 and 18 hours a day  and nearly 40% of cats sleep more than 18 hours per day. As they grow older, a majority of cats sleep for more hours each day than they did in their younger years.

— Sleep Foundation (sleepfoundation.org)

 

I recently spent several nights sleeping on the couch, though dozing might be a more accurate term. I was not in trouble with my spouse, at least not that I was aware of — which is not unusual, given my general cluelessness. In this case, however, major shoulder surgery left me in a sling and under doctor’s orders to sleep sitting upright for the first week or so. Initially, I thought, “no problem.” I have fallen asleep many nights sitting upright while watching television.

There turns out, at least for me, to be a key difference between zonking out while watching season five of Succession and being required to fall asleep in the upright position. I would cocoon myself in the quilt my Beautiful Mystery Companion had made for me one Christmas. It was created out of 30 T-shirts I willingly sacrificed and is quite cozy. I would get everything positioned just so, bum shoulder in a sling. The first night as I was bedded down and lightly sleeping, at 11 p.m., the cuckoo clock, hanging on a wall in the living room, began to chime. Eleven times, of course. That is not going to work, I thought, and unwrapped myself, padded over and stilled the pendulum. That required turning a light on, so again I was wide awake.

I tried again, wrapped up in the quilt, the clock now silent. That was when I realized why cats usually sleep all day. It is because they party all night! Tater, a 17-pound orange and white tomcat with a belly that brushes the floor when he walks, was chasing Olive, who barely weighs 5 pounds, all over the house, both jumping up on the armoire, making those annoying cat-fight noises, dancing across the kitchen counter, sliding under my legs propped up on the ottoman.

I turned the light back on. The cats froze. “What are y’all doing?” I asked, not exactly expecting an answer. Tater let out a chirp. They both slunk off. I re-cocooned myself, now completely wide awake. With resignation, I turned on the television, hoping to replicate my usual habit of zonking out before the credits roll. No luck. I finished watching Succession, depressed myself by watching CNN, took another round of Tylenol. Meanwhile, not a peep out of the cats. Perhaps I had cowered them into silence.

I turned off the light and television, once again wrapped up in the quilt. It was now nearly 2 a.m. Tater began walking around the sofa, loudly meowing. Apparently, he thought it was time for breakfast. That cat appears to have meal amnesia, meowing and prowling around his food bowl often less than hour after he has been fed. I threw a dog toy at him, and he beat a hasty retreat.

By the next morning, I was bleary-eyed with about two hours’ sleep, mainlining coffee by the cupful. Olive had curled up in my office chair, her favorite spot. Tater was asleep in the rocker, his big head hanging over its side. I was sorely tempted to grab the water spray bottle and wake them both up as rudely — and repeatedly — as I had been awakened during the night before. But then I would have had my BMC on my case. She is very protective of our critters

I finally figured out a semi-comfortable position to sleep in the bed after a few nights on the couch. Now the sling is off, and the French doors to the master bedroom are firmly closed against unwanted four-legged intruders. I presume the cats are still partying the night away, but at least I can’t hear them, thanks to the Vornado fan at the bedside, used more to provide white noise than a breeze.

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