The cat woke his owner every single night and forced her to move to the couch. She blamed insomnia—until the tests told a different story.
People love calling veterinarians at all hours. For some reason, they assume that if you treat animals, you’re automatically responsible for every mystery in the universe—especially at two in the morning, when you’re half asleep with a cat sprawled across your chest.
But this call came during the day. Still, the exhaustion in the woman’s voice sounded so deeply nocturnal that I instinctively glanced at the clock. “Good morning, is this Dr.
Miller’s clinic?” she asked carefully. “Yes, this is the clinic. Miller speaking.”
“My name is Linda… I have an appointment today.
It’s about my cat. He won’t let me sleep.”
“Won’t let me sleep” covers a wide range—fleas, anxiety, boredom, or something far more complicated. “Come in,” I told her.
“We treat animals—and sometimes insomnia too.”
Linda entered my office the way people walk into a chapel—quietly, almost apologetically. Early fifties, neatly styled hair, a tailored coat meant for appointments, not errands. She clutched her handbag like it carried her entire life.
She set the pet carrier down carefully. Inside, something large shifted. “This is Oliver,” she said.
“Though at night, he’s less gentleman and more night-shift nurse.”
Two enormous yellow eyes stared at me from inside. A big gray cat with a thick coat and the expression of someone who has seen everything and judged it already. He sized me up, decided I wasn’t worth the effort, and turned his head away with dignity.
“Let’s hear about this ‘nurse,’” I said. Linda sighed deeply. “He wakes me up.
Every night. Around three or four. Not gently—insistently.
First he taps my face. If I ignore him, he claws harder, nips me, pulls the blanket, runs across me. He doesn’t stop until I get up and go sleep on the couch.”
“And he stays in the bedroom?”
“Yes!
The moment I leave, he curls up on my pillow and sleeps peacefully until morning. Meanwhile, I’m stuck on the couch. I used to sleep there when my husband snored—when he was alive.
Now the cat’s taken over.”
Oliver pretended none of this concerned him. “How long has this been happening?”
“About three months. I thought maybe the seasons were affecting him.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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