Moving right along, I’m not as melancholy today. Although I could probably slip into it easily enough… so moving right along!
The cat is reaching new and interesting levels of Crazy these days. He knows there is change in the air–between the half-hearted packing, my attitude on life, and the weekend trip to his own personal meet-the-Napolean-complex hell, how could he not? His response has been a rigid insistence on daily routine. Rigid.
I have to get up by 7:30 to make it to work on time. I prefer to get up a little earlier so I have time for relaxing with coffee and e-mail or changing my outfit eighteen times. So I set my alarm for 7:00. However, if I am late to work, no one cares. And if I drink a bottle of red wine in the evening, 7:00 is very repugnant. So really, I generally crawl out of bed and across the apartment to the coffeemaker sometime closer to 8:00.
Thus, 8:00 has become the appointed time for the high point of Geoffrey’s day, wet cat food.
When my alarm goes off at 7:00 (because I lie to myself), it wakes up the cat. I hit snooze, he sits on my chest and cries. We go through 6 minute cycles of this until about 7:20, when I say screw it, turn off the alarm, and roll back over. This is generally his signal to also roll over, curl up, and go back to sleep.
We are adorable, woman and cat, so in tune with one another. Until approximately 7:53, at which point the freakshow begins as the cat throws his whole being into having me out of bed and feeding him within 7 minutes.
It started with a gentle tap-tap-tapping me on the shoulder with his paw. Cute, huh?
Then he tried wedging his face and front paws under my shoulder to roll me over. He’s strong, but not quite that strong.
Often he pretends to ignore me entirely and instead busies himself pushing spare change off the bedside table. Clink, clink, clink, I’m up in no time.
There was Wet Willy Day, when he stuck his entire cold, wet snout in my ear. That one worked well!
Today I woke up to the entire bed shaking and something bumping into my back repeatedly. He had risen from his normal cuddle-spot with his head resting on the nape of my neck, and he was chasing his tail. In bed. In the 10 inches between my back and the side of the bed. The cat is easily 24 inches himself when he stretches out. It was like having an incredibly agile Tasmanian devil in the bed with me.
I’m fully expecting to wake up one day to him reciting Shakespeare or perhaps the Emancipation Proclamation. It would be just weird enough.
There is no snooze button on a hungry cat.
Haha, don’t be silly, Leslie. He isn’t hungry–he has a full bowl of food in the other room. He just wants to be in control
yesterday Charley was up at 3:30 and wanting to play. once he had worn himself out, he curled up next to me and went back to sleep, totally oblivious of the fact that his mother was now wide awake and not amused. if he wasn’t so damn cute, i would have kicked his ass.
i’m not a fan of cats, but there’s a dog in this town that has me wrapped around his little paw.