I woke to rapidly fire meowing that roughly translated into “Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?” I opened one eye—hoping that the little pest wouldn’t see that—and looked at the clock.
Oh, and he saw that one eye open, and was instantly in little kitty heaven. The purr machine roared to life, and with a body slam he could only have learned from Max, he dropped his 5.5 pounds right across my throat. If he’d just stayed there and gone to sleep, it would have been all right; I can sleep with him draped across my neck. But no, he had to wiggle ecstatically, rolling and stretching, dancing across my torso like he was all set to take down the celebrities on Dancing With The Stars.
And then he began to rub his face against mine, little black wet nose disgustingly sliding across my lips and cheeks. For a brief moment he paused, his head pressed against my ear, and I thought he was going to go to sleep….but no, he was simply gathering more steam.
I picked him up and placed him on the bed next to the pillow, where he likes to sleep. He got right back up and dropped onto me again.
For 45 minutes he rolled around on top of me, purring, rubbing his face all over mine. I was greatly relieved when he finally got up, and promptly fell back asleep.
It felt like it was only a minute later when I heard rapid fire meowing next to my ear, in a much more mature tone that roughly translated into, “I’m starving I’m starving I’m starving I’m starving I’m starving I’m starving I’m starving I’m starving…”
What Max wanted me to do was get up, open the Boy’s bedroom door, so that he could feast upon the kitty chow that Buddah doesn’t seem to bother with. What I did was roll over, hoping he’d take the hint.
He stomped over the pillow and resuming his meowing on the other side of the bed. So I rolled over again. And again, he followed.
Once in a while he can be placated with a little attention; I reached up and scratched behind his ears, mumbled “go to sleep,” and closed my eyes again.
“I’m starving I’m starving I’m starving I’m starving I’m starving I’m starving I’m starving. I’m going to die!”
4:15 a.m. I got up, stumbled into the bathroom where an extra food dish is kept, filled it, and stumbled back to bed. I fell asleep to the sounds of munching, and assumed that he realized it was either grown up cat food, or nothing.
But yay, both cats had been placated for the night, and I could go back to sleep.
Rapid fire meowing that roughly translated into “Yo, Woman, thanks for the chow, but now I need this itchy spot on my back seen to. Come on, wake up, do your Feline Ownerly duty. Scratch, Woman, scratch!”
“Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?”
No reason. He just wanted to sit by my head and meow his little fool head off.
“Hey. I’m hungry again. And I don’t want that dry crap. Could you get up and open a can for me? Like, right now? Come on. Get up get up get up get up get up get up get up! I’m not going to stop until someone uses their opposable thumbs and gets me some prime Stinky goodness!”
7:15 or thereabouts.
I hear a key in the front door; Max does, too, and no longer am I the focus of attention. In fact, I don’t exist anymore. I am free to fall asleep, and since I don’t have t be anywhere, I can sleep as late as I want.
Rapid fire barking coming from the next building; someone’s rather large dog is on a balcony, barking his little fool head off, and I’m pretty sure it roughly translated into “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! You’re trying to sleep in and I’m not going to let you!”
It was a conspiracy.
It had to be.