(Without Losing Your Sanity) There’s a moment—right around 2:37 a.m.—when you’re jarred awake by the sound of something that can only be described as “an unholy union between a banshee and a small possessed goat.” You bolt upright. You’re not alone. Your cat, Sir Meowington, eyes glowing like eldritch lanterns, is mid-parkour between the kitchen…