I love my cats, I swear - but last night I was very tempted to chuck the buggers out the window.
My Liddle Cat is obsessed with digging in the runner groove of the window, scratch scratch scratch. I have a squirt bottle of water by the bed, and when he goes digging for imaginary treasure I give him a squirt, but to be honest, he's not the brightest star in the firmament, and I don't think he quite understands I'm trying to make him stop. He'll run off, but come back in a few minutes and start all over again.
And Bersi - ugh, Bersi was in full Jerk Mode last night. Around 4 am he started whining. He has the most impressive whine - imagine a combination of a 3 year old child who really wants a lolly, and a bratty teenager trying to talk their parents into letting them go to a party (but all the other kids are going!). Whine, whinge, whine, cry. For no good reason. They had food and water, the house wasn't on fire (I checked). He was just being a jerk. I squirted him with water too, but Bersi is smarter than Liddle Cat - he'll just take himself out of range, and continue whining. Finally I snapped and turned - I kicked them into the hallway, and shut the bedroom door.
Doesn't sound that mean, right? You underestimate how spoilt my cats are. For them, being shut out of the bedroom is like being kicked out of home to live on the streets, or maybe being sent to a Victorian workhouse/orphanage. So there was a shocked silence for a blessed 15 minutes or so, and I started to hope that just maybe I could finally go back to sleep. And then they started scratching at the door. Unstoppable, pathetic scratching - they were willing to keep scratching until they died of starvation, or perhaps fell prey to hallway wolves. Poor, neglected, unloved, abandoned little kitties.
Eventually we took pity and let them back in. And thank all the gods, they were so grateful for being rescued from the blizzards (in the hallway) that they were happy to curl up and go to sleep.