The cat woke up its owner every night and chased her out of the bedroom. The woman thought the cat had mental
problems until she took it to the vet.
I’m a veterinarian, and I often get calls at night. People assume that if you have a degree, you’re obligated to solve
everything—from a dog’s sneeze to saving their life. But Anna called during the day. And there was such exhaustion in her
voice, as if she hadn’t slept in months.
— Hello, is this the clinic? My name is Anna. I have an appointment with you. I have a problem with my cat… She won’t let me
sleep.
The phrase “the cat won’t let me sleep” could mean anything. But her tone wasn’t irritation, but alarm.
Anna arrived neatly dressed, a little tense. About fifty-five years old, with a neat haircut and a coat that matched her boots.
She held the carrier carefully, as if it were porcelain.
“It’s Luna,” she said. “It’s a beautiful name; my husband chose it. But at night, she’s not Luna, she’s an alarm clock with
claws.”
Big eyes looked at me from the carrier. A large gray cat, thick fur, calm gaze. No aggression.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Anna took a deep breath.
“She wakes me up every night. Always around three or four in the morning. First, she gently pats my cheek with her paw. If I
don’t react, she starts hitting me harder. She might bite my hand. She pulls the blanket off. She doesn’t calm down until I get
up and go to sleep on the couch in the living room. And as soon as I leave, she lies down on my pillow and sleeps until
morning.”
– How long does this last?
— About three months. At first, I thought she was acting up. Then I decided it was my nerves. The therapist said the
insomnia was due to stress. He gave her a sedative. But it didn’t get any better.
Luna sat calmly next to her owner, her eyes fixed on her. I examined the cat. Her heart was steady, her breathing clear, her
weight normal. A perfectly healthy animal.
She thought about it.
— It’s bad. My heart is pounding. My mouth is dry. Sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe. At first, I think my blood pressure is
fluctuating. I take a pill under my tongue and go to the couch. After a while, it gets better.
— Has anyone told you that you snore?
She became embarrassed.
— A neighbor once said that at night I seem to go silent, and then suddenly inhale.
I looked at the cat. She didn’t take her eyes off Anna.
“It seems the Moon isn’t waking you up because it’s being harmful,” I said. “Perhaps it’s reacting to what’s happening to you
in your sleep. Animals sense when your breathing changes or your heartbeat becomes unusual. For the Moon, that’s a
warning sign.”
Anna looked at me as if I had said something strange.
– Do you mean to say that she saves me?
“I can’t prove it,” I replied. “But I’m sure the cat isn’t the problem. You need to get some tests done. Blood, sugar, heart check,
maybe sleep breathing. Start with that.”
She was silent for a long time, then nodded.
A week later, Anna called again. Her voice no longer held that dull weariness.
“I had some tests done,” she said. “My sugar levels are high. And the doctor sent me to a cardiologist. They found heart
problems. They said I’m having breathing pauses at night. They sent me for an examination. The doctor said it was serious.”
She paused and quietly added:
— If Luna hadn’t woken me up… I would have continued to blame everything on my nerves.
Anna is currently undergoing treatment. They prescribed her medications and sleep therapy. She’s already sleeping better.
Luna still comes at night, but now she just lies down next to her and purrs softly.
