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I suppose there's something about 3:30 in the morning. I believe it was F. Scott Fitzgerald who said that 4 o'clock in the morning was the loneliest time. Almost every morning for the past two weeks, Miss Julian, feline supreme, has jumped in the bed within a few minutes of 3:30.

And I do mean jump. Four little paws landing around one's tummy tends to make an impression. Especially when your bladder is moderately full. And those four little paws walk back and forth for several minutes, concentrating on the area between my chest and my pelvis.

Almost out of habit, I start petting her. I have learned that she will stop pacing if I pet her gently. She will, within a few minutes, settle down – normally with her head about the middle of my chest, and her fanny in the vacinity of my belly button.

I'd rather not have those four paws pad around my bladder. But it is pleasant to have a purring cat keeping you company. It's actually quite relaxing; although I don't normally fall back into anything like a deep sleep.

Yesterday (Sunday) morning, for example, I simply could not get back to sleep. My tradition, on Sunday mornings, is to set my iSound alarm clock to play "Speaking of Faith" on my iPod at 5:30 a.m. But I was full-on awake, still, around 4:30; so, I went ahead and played the latest episode.

Here's my theory: I'm probably at a light point of my sleep cycle at that hour, and Julia probably perceives me as being available. Plus, petting her probably reinforces the behavior.

I did learn a bit of charming trivia. Some time, about a week ago, Julian settled on my shoulders; her torso from haunch to haunch is exactly as long as my shoulders are wide.