Good thing the cat can't use scissors

One of our earliest discoveries about Woodhaven is how startlingly quiet it is here. Part of it is due to us being on several acres and far enough away from any neighbors that we can’t hear their conversations or music or small appliances. And part of it is due to what we’ve determined to be excellent insulation. Close the doors and windows and we can’t hear anything outside unless it is hitting the house.

It didn’t take long for us to get addicted to the quiet. We travel a fair amount and have learned to pack earplugs along with our toothpaste and contact solution. I have found myself complaining to the front desk of several hotels about the noise next door or in the hallway. Never did that before we moved. A few years ago a dear friend from New York visited for a few days. He lives in Manhattan just off of Times Square. He had a miserable time sleeping here the first night because it was too dang quiet. He also looked at me funny when I heard a distant siren and watched between the trees in the valley below us, trying to find the fire engine. It was so novel for me to hear the siren. He lives near a fire station, too, but his sirens are practically white noise to him.

With all the silence, I usually wake up naturally. I am grateful for that everyday, remembering too well how much I loathed my alarm clock when I worked. Occasionally, I will wake up from pain. Or the rain dripping through the gutter outside our bedroom window. Or the wind howling. Or springtime woodpeckers using our metal chimney to send out Morse code messages to the other peckers. Or the cat unpleasantly indicating that I need to brush him more often.

Much less common – but much more amusing – is how I woke up this morning. Far earlier than when I wanted to start my day, I awoke to the sounds of the cat licking Rob’s head. A rhythmic, slightly sandpapery sound punctuated by the occasional jingle of a cat bell. We have no idea why the cat likes to groom Rob. But it happens frequently enough that we call the experience “Mr. Brad’s Hair Salon.” The scary thing is, Brad does a pretty good job. Rob’s hair always looks a little tamer, if not more swirly, when the cat is done licking it into place. Brad has never attempted to groom my hair. While I’d like to think this means the cat has assessed my hair as fabulous and not in need of any styling, I suspect it’s more due to the sticky gel I apply to it daily. Either which way, it is a most unusual way to wake up, seeing your cat licking your husband’s head. Even more amusing was that Rob slept right through it. In fact, I think he’s still asleep right now. Lucky dog.