Early morning: you’ve been awake for under two minutes. You were awoken by a four-legged alarm clock going through a ritualistic bedroom dance that includes, but is not limited to:
- Stomping on your stomach, chest, face, and anything else exposed and squishable.
- Systematically knocking everything you own off the dresser.
- Clawing at the bed like a mental patient seeking sunlight.
- Tearing through the house singing the song of his people in the most hellish tone imaginable.
- Breaking things. All the things. Basically anything not nailed down is toast.
Said creature then decides that in order for you to have the MOST effective wake up experience he should create a slalom course by weaving through your legs. If you pass this test of dexterity he judges your reflexes by hiding under furniture and then tearing wildly through your path, screaming if you should dare to step on his tail. Once through the gauntlet-like journey from your room you reach level two: The Bathroom Challenge. Firstly, doors may never be closed. If he is in he will want out. If he is out he will want in. Basically he just wants options. Once in you must fight him for sink rights. Hint: he’ll win. Every time. He would also like the water on (not too much mind you). If you fail to turn the water on he will return to morning ritual number two, only this time it will be everything on the counter that is relocating to the floor. He does this subtly, so your sleepy self will see it as an accident and simply pick up the falling items, then turn the water on because “he’s probably thirsty”. It’s all part of his master plan to condition you into unknowing obedience. I would like to note that at this point you’ve still not done anything productive for your day.
Once you have been tested on bathroom etiquette a la cat he turns his attention to food. He needs it now. Five minutes ago would have been better. It’s like he hasn’t seen food for a week. If you don’t immediately exit the bathroom and reach for the kibble you are dead to him. More correctly, he will be dead from malnutrition and come back and haunt you until you wish you were dead if you don’t put food in the bowl RIGHT MEOW. At least that’s how he sees it. At this point I deviate from the dictated schedule and do the unspeakable, I LET THE DOG OUT OF HIS CRATE. And then, unfeeling beast that I am, I take said animal outside to relieve himself. How dare I. Upon returning I can usually find the betrayed being perched on his table giving me a look that could melt titanium. Fearing for my safety while I sleep, I quietly fill the bowl and back away slowly. Now that his impending starvation has been staved off the feline resident has no more use for his human companions…until dinnertime.
What?! Chesney was not featured in this post?! Well, everything is not always about him. But don’t tell him that or you’ll give him a complex. We love both our fur babies equally, and while Spider prefers to be out of the limelight most of the time, occasionally he needs a moment (or blog post) as well. Plus I told him if he didn’t stop trying to trip me I would reveal his morning tirade to the world. He thought I was bluffing. Ha!