You’re Not The Chef!

7 a.m. like clockwork the cats wake us up in the morning, and I assure you weekends and holidays are no exception. Their relentless strategy for accomplishing this mission? Run around the room play fighting. Jump on the bed and run across the pillows, sometimes connecting with our faces. Jumping at windows and wall or attacking toes. When asked politely to “stop!” The cats run and hide under the bed until we doze off, then start scratching the underbelly of the box spring mattress.

On weekdays hubby is the first one up for work and he feeds them. Today is Sunday… ever tried to explain that to a cat? We are both snuggled warmly under the covers and in no hurry.

Anyway, I was awake this morning and thinking about a new story idea when their people waking antics started. Hubby rolled over.

“I’ll feed them,” I say. “You go back to sleep for a while.”

The cats follow me downstairs to the kitchen. I fill their bowls and start the coffee brewing. Sitting down I fire up the computer and scan Facebook while waiting for coffee.

The cats don’t move. They stand in the kitchen doorway watching me.

“Eat guys, your bowls are full” I say, and go back to reading status updates.

A few minutes later something distracts me from browsing. It sounds like a herd of wild horses upstairs. The cats bowls are full of food. The pair of them had quietly sneaked back upstairs to continue their morning, wake the people, routine.

I hear hubby get up. He comes downstairs, cats in tow. Each of them saunter to their bowls and start eating.

Sorry hun, I tried.


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