She lies quietly by my side, her little eyes blinking sleepily. I am not fooled. This is the calm before the storm. Still, there is reason to hope that I will be able to sleep. I roll over and turn off the bedside lamp.

As I roll to my side, tucking my pillow just so, she makes her move. My arm is the target. She pounces, she twists, she grabs and holds on for dear life. I flip the covers and she is bounced to the end of the bed, taking a piece of my skin with her. I roll over and remove my arm from the target area.

Lightly, delicately, she tippy-toes up my body, navigating from my toes to my shoulder. She nuzzles my ear, cooing softly. I relent and take her under the covers with me; a mistake I will regret.

As she burrows her way beneath the covers she discovers my bare leg. Again, she pounces and, again, she grabs and holds on for dear life. Entwined as she is in the covers, she is difficult to extract but I manage to remove her and make her leave the bed, sending another piece of skin with her as a trophy.

As I drift gratefully into sleep she returns, cooing sweetly, trying to make peace. She snuggles into the crook of my neck and I sigh, thinking the storm has passed. As I relax and sink deeper into sleep’s sweet embrace, she rolls from my neck and pees on the bed.

Believe me, kittens are not all sweetness and light.