Meet Simkin .You wouldn’t believe it, would you ? To look at him you would think he was a well-bred, polite English Ginger cat. And that’s what he’s always been- until last week.
We haven’t been sleeping well recently- waking up in the middle of the night, lying awake and watching the dawn seep through the curtains… so we got this tea – oat flower and lavender….I forget what it’s called. Let’s call it SnoroTea. A couple of nights ago, there we were, sitting in bed, listening to Radio 4 and swigging our mugs of SnoroTea – it was pale yellow and looked like..no..don’t go there…and it tasted vaguely of grass. It had to infuse, so the teabags were left in.
The following morning I got up to make the breakfast and let the Simkin out of his little room next door. Normally he jumps up on the bed, mops up and bits of leftover breakfast, and has a snooze, before going out into the garden to have ..another snooze.
But this time was different. He jumped up on the bed, his whiskers quivered, he turned to the cups on the sidetable and launched himself at them. He rammed his nose down into one cup and inhaled the teabag, drew the SnoroTea vapours deep into his lungs. His eyes rolled, he quivered with delight, leapt off the bed and chrged round the house like a mad thing. I have never seen him so active- normally he is slow, sedate, torpid even. But this wild fit of delight lasted for half an hour before he finally sank down on the floor and fell asleep.
Now there’s a fine moral decision to be made here. Do we swig our Snoro, sleep well and allow the cat to sniff his substance of choice, or do we throw out the SnoroTea and wait for the dawn ?
Watch this space…