Scruffy needs a tummy tuck.

Kate Gosselin got a tummy tuck, and she only had sextuplets.  Scruffy had septuplets, so she really deserves a tummy tuck.  You can't tell too well from this picture, taken on my bed, but the poor thing has a really droopy belly that isn't bouncing back.

Now, picture me, sleeping in this bed, under this mosquito net, with my friend Scruffy. 

I feel something light and feathery brush across my feet, just as the cat is also bounding across my feet.  I frantically swat at whatever horrible thing is crawling on me, a horrible thing that was not stopped by my mosquito net. 

I turn on the light.  It's not midnight yet, so there's still electricity.  Good. 

Scruffy and I peer over the edge of the bed, looking, looking.  Dumb cat.  It's her job to catch and eat horrible things, or at least keep them out of my bed. 

We look and look for about 10 minutes, but there's nothing there. 

I was almost too grossed out to laugh about me and my cat hanging our heads over the side of the bed with exactly the same expression on our faces.

I run through the list of things that it could have been.  It was really light and feathery.  It can't have been any of the really horrible things with tiny clawed paws, so maybe it was one of those house centipedes that I saw once in my bathroom.  Ick.

And then I realize that what I'd felt was Scruffy jumping across my ankles, with her poor tummy hanging down so far that it brushed against them. 

So, I turned out the light and went back to sleep.  Dumb cat was still hanging over the side of the bed looking for something last I saw of her.