Cats and clocks
There was a time in my life when I'd do anything to stay under the warm covers as long as possible, especially on the weekends. But ever since the advent of my girlfriend's cats, I've been up before dawn more times in the past two years than in the prior twenty.
For self defense, I keep a squirt bottle and a couple of rolled up socks near the nightstand to toss at any early-rising cat attempting to wake me. But anytime after six a.m. I'll usually give in, get up, and feed the kitties.
How she-who-owns-the-cats can sleep through the daily pre-dawn feline attack is a mystery. How can she possibly not notice I'm at war with her two plotting cats? Especially when they tag team my toes or run across my pillow or scratch at my side of the mattress?
Occasionally, Wolfie and Stanzi will jump from the dresser to the bed, and then very quickly retreat to the doorway, pausing to see if they've been successful in their maneuvers to jump-start their favorite lackey.
This morning, these creatures decided to wake me up at 5:15 a.m. (which was 4:15 a.m. yesterday) and I was too tired to fight them. After devouring separate bowls of crunchy morning delight, they have retired to my abandoned side of the bed to bask and purr in the glory of a victory nap.
So, that's my day so far: feeding and watering the thundering herd of cats, springing forward the clocks, fighting the urge to go outside and enjoy the sunshine.
But why fight it? I'm beginning to love the smell of Frisky Vittles in the morning.
Maybe a trip to the Cowgirl restaurant is the best way to lick my wounds: Yes--I'll go make a fuss at the Cowgirl--I'll order a bowl of grits and a plate of huevos rancheros and a steaming cup of coffee, and beg for some cream.
Ah, the first day of daylight savings time is simply glorious, isn't it?
For self defense, I keep a squirt bottle and a couple of rolled up socks near the nightstand to toss at any early-rising cat attempting to wake me. But anytime after six a.m. I'll usually give in, get up, and feed the kitties.
How she-who-owns-the-cats can sleep through the daily pre-dawn feline attack is a mystery. How can she possibly not notice I'm at war with her two plotting cats? Especially when they tag team my toes or run across my pillow or scratch at my side of the mattress?
Occasionally, Wolfie and Stanzi will jump from the dresser to the bed, and then very quickly retreat to the doorway, pausing to see if they've been successful in their maneuvers to jump-start their favorite lackey.
This morning, these creatures decided to wake me up at 5:15 a.m. (which was 4:15 a.m. yesterday) and I was too tired to fight them. After devouring separate bowls of crunchy morning delight, they have retired to my abandoned side of the bed to bask and purr in the glory of a victory nap.
So, that's my day so far: feeding and watering the thundering herd of cats, springing forward the clocks, fighting the urge to go outside and enjoy the sunshine.
But why fight it? I'm beginning to love the smell of Frisky Vittles in the morning.
Maybe a trip to the Cowgirl restaurant is the best way to lick my wounds: Yes--I'll go make a fuss at the Cowgirl--I'll order a bowl of grits and a plate of huevos rancheros and a steaming cup of coffee, and beg for some cream.
Ah, the first day of daylight savings time is simply glorious, isn't it?
4 Comments:
Man I know that feeling. I only have one and don't have the heart to lock the bedroom door and deprive her of the joys of the electric blanket at night. Besides similar tactics to your gang she has evolved one foolproof technique - running her hand down the metal venetian blind until I get up. It sounds like a road drill. Our clocks have recently gone forward too.
Yes, they do love the electric blanket, too! Oh, the venetian blind technique--which proves cats have one or two paws on the Darkside.
Buying a big dog would seem a likely solution for the problem :)
Mark
You will never win, Richard. They are very clever creatures! They get fed and get your side of the bed. This is no accident. I love cats, though they are wacky furballs.
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