Winter has finally arrived in Connecticut. Despite the lack of snow, a blast of arctic air sent the temperature plummeting. When it’s this cold, our cat, Noodles, who spends most of the summer outside, is never far from my side. Most of the time, he’s snuggled up next to me, but he sometimes chooses some surprising napping spots. The other day I found him curled up in a laundry basket filled with old socks that need sorting, and I immediately thought of this poem.
“Cats”
by Eleanor Farjeon
Cats sleep
Anywhere,
Any table,
Any chair,
Top of piano,
Window-ledge,
In the middle,
On the edge,
Open drawer,
Empty shoe,
Anybody’s
lap will do,
Fitted in a
Cardboard box,
In the cupboard
With your frocks—
Anywhere!
They don’t care!
Cats sleep
Anywhere.
Please be sure to visit Tabatha Yeatts at The Opposite of Indifference for the Poetry Friday Roundup.
Reading to the Core 
This poem rings true! Our cat was very fond of sleeping under the Christmas tree, and even after we took it down, she kept going to the same spot. She also likes sleeping in a box, so we gave her one from Christmas and she uses that. Boxes make such good cat catchers.
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This is every cat I have ever had the pleasure of living with. Thanks for sharing, Catherine!
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Love the kitty goodness, Catherine! We’re having an especially cold winter in AZ and our dog is finding interesting ways to keep warm – wrapped in a blanket on the couch – burrito perrito. =)
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Love the name Noodles — what a pretty cat. Love the poem too. 🙂
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Love this reflection on cat habitats! Ours lives in a temperate climate but finds laundry baskets filled with warm clean laundry a perfect nest.
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As I read this, Mimi is sleeping on my reusable grocery bags. She actually loves to try to get inside them. The man at the grocery store while he was bagging my groceries said, “You have a cat.” There was cat hair all over the bag. Yes, cats sleep anywhere. Great poem.
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Needless to say, I especially liked this one! See attached shot of Spot sleeping under Nana’s quilt – kinda 😀
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Our cat has gone through some troubled times, but he seems to be remembering how to be a cat again. He’s gone from inhabiting (exclusively) the wooden cube/cupboard by the front window, to the back of the couch (falling off numerous times in his deepest sleep), to, finally, the recliner. We are so glad to maybe have a real cat back, that we are willing to give up the most comfortable chair in the house!
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The house we lived in in Sydney was not well insulated— as in 50 degrees, indoors, in the winter. Some days, I was just like Noodles in your photo. Finding the perfect spot where the sun streamed in through the window to take an afternoon nap. Thanks for the smile this morning, Catherine.
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