Saturday, September 12, 2009
Drat That Cat!
I was supposed to be able to sleep in today. You know, no alarm clock, sweet dreams and all that. But promptly at 7 A.M. my dear fat cat, Buttercup, decided she had waited long enough for breakfast. She cried outside my door for five minutes before I finally let her in and hopped back into bed. Then she cried at the foot of the bed. I pulled the covers over my ears, but she refused to be ignored. She promptly knocked over my glass of water next to the bed and then thumped me on the head. Hard.
I can recognize a losing battle, so I dragged myself out of bed once again to make the long (yawn) trek to the basement to feed the starving, fat cat. When I reached the bottom of the stairs I was greeted by a pile of dirty socks not so neatly stacked in front of the laundry room door and the very large lid of the litter box upside down in the middle of the room. Both are probably compliments of this cat, Angel- who, by the way, does not live up to her name.
When Angel was younger I would come home from work each day to a pile of dirty socks stacked right in front of the entryway door. It must be too much of an effort in her middle age to drag them up two half-flights of stairs. The laundry room door will have to do. As for the litter box lid, Angel delights in scaring the fur off Buttercup - especially when she's in the litter box. More than once I've seen her whack the living daylights out of Buttercup's tail as it sticks out of the box. Buttercup probably jumped high enough to knock the lid off. I have no idea how it got in the middle of the room. Must have been some party.
Back to Buttercup. I decided that since I'm up it would be a good time to get some writing done. House is quiet. Kids are still in bed. Perfect. Except the fat cat decides she still needs attention. Meow. In my lap. Meow. Down to the floor. Meow. In my lap. Meow... you get the picture. It's very hard to concentrate on a new story line with 15 1/2 pounds of feline in your face. Thankfully, all that exercise has now worn her out. She is napping at my feet, and she'll probably stay in that spot for the rest of the day.
Time to get back to the manuscript...