Haven’t been getting the best rest, what with Bubba Big Foot honoring me each evening with his royal 16-pound feline presence. On my chest. While I’m sleeping. At least twice nightly. Using his six-toed, catcher’s mitt paws, he pats my face and demands to be touched, no quarter given. He especially likes to be scratched behind his ginormous ears. Or he’ll curl up on whichever of my hips is available. And take a nice bath. Hard to sleep with all that licking, slurping and accompanying movements going on.

I know that I should be thrilled at the privilege he’s bestowing. If it’s not Bubba, it’s Charlie, the black-and-white whirlwind. He likes to walk on us. Especially at night while we’re snoozing. Sometimes he’ll playfully bite us. Jan says it’s a sign of his affection. Yeah, well how would he like it if I bit him? (Just kidding).

Charlie often is stalked by Mama Maui, she who birthed Bubba. Maui doesn’t tolerate much, especially smaller black-and-white cats with a smart Alec attitude. So those two often end up in so-called Mexican stand-offs, usually with appropriate sound effects. (Cat sounds, not gunfire).

Meanwhile, sweet Flint Eastwood, the all-black kitty with lovely green eyes, maintains a gentle watch on all the happenings. He does enjoy periodically playing with Charlie. But sometimes I can’t tell if they’re playing or trying to disembowel each other. With appropriate sound effects. Bubba sometimes plays hide-and-seek with Charlie. Or maybe it’s hide-and-kill.

Anyway, all of them except Maui are well-known for jumping off objects and landing like a 50-pound sack of cement. How they can make that much noise on their furry little cat feet is intriguing. Especially in the after-midnight hours. Especially when it also involves what sounds like a relay race to the death up and down the hall and around our bed. With appropriate sound effects.

Little Rocky the Pomeranian stays out of the way. He’s not feeling well these days. We keep finding little piles of food he couldn’t keep down. And he has stiff legs. As for Bingo, the 50-pound Australian shepherd/terrier/blue healer/whatever, well, he often gets involved in the relay races. He enjoys a few gruff grunts and a bit of chasing, for which he gets yelled at. He’s not supposed to chase cats in the house.

Actually, he’s not supposed to chase cats outside either, but he is a dog with natural tendencies. Mostly he gets along, but occasionally has to show his authority. (Yeah, right -- authority over cats. Ha!)

One of these days, when los gatos are really tired or decide to hang out in another room, we’ll get a full, uninterrupted night’s sleep. With appropriate sound effects.