3:20 a.m.

Molly is waiting for me to go to bed. Ha. She'll just have to wait until I get tired enough to be tortured all night. All of a sudden, she has started her treading, kneading, purring, etc., again. Last night I kept waking up with her lying on my arm and shoulder, gently kneading except when she did her little claw prick on my arm. I can see the smug expression on her face and know it's not an accident. I'm always covered with little red dots from her getting my attention.

Last night in the middle of the night I finally got up and stomped into the kitchen. Both bowls had dry food in them, but, of course, Molly doesn't eat from those bowls, she needs her little picnic on my desk. I grabbed some food for her picnic and went back to bed. I had fallen asleep again when the sound of claws picking at the sheet and pulling it up woke me. Well, that's something new, I thought, and I lay there quietly, hoping it would stop. I finally raised up to look at her, and, guess what. It was Sophie, who Molly doesn't ordinarily allow on the bed. I suppose she had eaten and gone to sleep somewhere else, or she was lurking by the door watching her co-conspirator wake me, grinning away.

Yeah, right, Molly, I'm going to bed any minute now. Ha. In your dreams.