Not the way to start a Saturday

Especially a rainy Saturday. Most normal people stay in a bed a little while longer. Especially when theres really no place in particular to go.

Obviously, they don't have animals.

The cats decided a long time ago, that they will perish if not fed within 10 minutes of first light. And by first light, I do not mean full light. I mean that little tiny bit of light at dawn that makes the black of night turn purple. That little bit of light is the signal that unless I am up and feeding them, they will die of starvation.

This morning it's drizzling. It's a little chilly. And it's Saturday. I don't have to go to work. I don't need my shower by 7:00. I don't need to get up.

Fraid not. In cat land, this is just another day, and I better get my ass out of bed now, or face having four cats implode from lack of food. Uh huh. One weighs in about 15 pounds, and the other three are in various stages of the 10 pound mark. Starve, my butt.

When dawns early light breaks, they start their assault. John Doe, who has taken to sleeping on the pillow next to my head, will start first. "Mraw, mraw, mraw" and then pats my cheek with his paw. Bertha (the cranky 16 year old bitch who lives under the bed) adds her 'meow' "mrack, mrack, mrack, mrack" (if Bert was a person, she'd be a little old lady who chain smokes Pall Malls, drinks whiskey from a lipstick stained waterglass, and wears a housecoat and slippers 24/7 unless she's on the bus to Atlantic City) Then Grace, who can't be left out. "Mreet Mreet Mreet". Pete cat who is by far the least dorky of the lot, will just sit on the bedside table and stare at me.

I ignored everyone this morning, because I wanted to sleep dammit! And in the mind of a cat, if you can't get attention with verbal means, one must resort to physical comedy. John Doe knocked all the paperback books off the bedside table. Pete flicked every single item off the other side table, one at a time. Bertha just paced up and down the bedroom making her mrack, mrack noise. All this naturally leads Dummy to think there has to be something he's missing out on, so he is a the foot of the stairs whining and pacing.

I'm fully awake now. So I let them continue their show a little longer. Then, with a great Amy explosion, I throw off the quilt (and assembled felines) and yell 'ALL RIGHT YOU BASTARDS I'M UP NOW!" Which of course causes Dummy downstairs to whoof madly. All the cats are fed, and I come down to walk the dog. It's still raining of course, and being the water dog he is, he can't possibly get his feet wet. So all HIS woofing and dancing and prancing has been wasted on a 30 second trip to the end of the front walk and him going 2 feet into the yard to do his thing.

Do you think I can go back to bed?

Obviously not, because here I am, blogging at 6:25 in the morning. The rest of the Saturday off world is probably in bed. The upside to this is NASCAR is on this afternoon, and while I'm not a rabid fan of making left turns for 4 hours, it is a very effective sleep aid.