It always happens when I least expect it. The TV's still on, I’m halfway through reheating something I probably shouldn’t be eating, and bam—my cat is curled up on my chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I freeze. Not because I’m scared—because I don’t want to ruin the moment. You know the one. The low purring, the warm weight on your lap, the soft rise and fall of their breath. It’s weirdly grounding. And every single time, I wonder: Why does she do this?
I mean, I know I feed her. I scoop her litter box and open the blinds just right so she can sunbathe at 3 p.m. sharp. But still—why me?
Some people say cats lie on you because they love you. Others say it's about warmth. Or territory. Or that you smell like tuna or something. Who knows. All I know is, when she chooses me, I feel like I’m doing at least one thing right in life.
There was this one night during a storm—I was having a terrible day, work stuff, you get it—and she jumped on the bed, crawled right up next to my face, and just... stayed. No kneading, no twitching tail. Just quiet. I don’t care what science says. That felt like love.
Of course, sleeping with a cat has its complications. For one, I’ve been kicked in the ribs at 4 a.m. more times than I can count. And my white duvet is now mostly cat-colored. There are nights I shut the bedroom door because I need actual rest. And she’s not thrilled about it.
But we always make up in the morning.
Honestly, I think cats sleeping on us is their way of saying, You’re part of my world now. It’s not always convenient. It’s definitely not always clean. But it’s one of the quietest, softest little joys in my life.
And if you’ve ever paused a whole movie just because your cat got comfortable, well—then you probably get it too.
