Saturday, September 05, 2009

Mounting the charm offensive

Saturdays are the one day I let myself turn off the alarm clock and sleep until I wake up. I'm fairly safe from waaayyy oversleeping for two reasons: 1) I have a very good internal clock which will wake me up within an hour of my regular time and 2) I have a very good external clock by the name of Pyewacket.

Pye, 8-year-old neutered male, inside cat always with not-so-good litter box manners and missing three teeth since surgery last week, is an army which marches on its stomach. His weight loss a couple years ago set us a back a pretty penny, only to not find a cause of such. He is a demanding boy, annoying at times, especially when it comes to food. He wants his small saucer of milk in the morning before I get my cereal (uh, no. I pour his, I pour mine.), and his special treat, given about noon, has him lined up by ten. I'm not sure where he keeps his watch, but his sense of time is unerring.

The courthouse clock strikes woke me at 6:30, well within my internal clock range. That was all that Pye needed, once he saw me stir, to leap into feed-me-now mode.

He launched onto the bed, strolled up my side of it, and nosed me. Not getting a warm response, he went into annoy-mode. He walked across the bedside table to the window sill, nudging the lampshade and disturbing my reading glasses. He knocked off the emory board, bumped the alarm clock, chin-rubbed the blinds.

Not getting the response he wanted, me--up!, he mounted a new offensive, the charm mode. Purring, he laid down half an inch from my fingers, just where I would have to stretch in order to pet him. He alternately advanced and retreated, allowing me to stroke his back and tweak his tail before starting over just beyond range.

I tried to doze. He came by for another round, then jumped off the bed. Five minutes later, he was at it again. I gave up and got up.

Who says they haven't brains? I was played like a grand piano.

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