Every morning I wake up to the sound of a ferocious tiger roaring.
Make that two tigers.
Pookie and Hobbes will do everything in their power to try and get me up for one reason, and one reason only.
They are starving to death.
If I even blink, or make the slightest motion, these ‘light-as-a-feather’ 20 lb kittens are on me. On my legs…my back…sometimes even my head. It’s like they are watching my every move. Moreover, I think they intuitively know the exact moment I will wake up…and then proceed to wake me up 10 minutes earlier.
They are perverse in this regard.
And if this doesn’t work, one of them (no names mentioned, princess) likes to run out of the bedroom and scratch the nearest piece of furniture, making loud aggressive noises. And if that trick doesn’t work, she moves on to Plan B: murder Hobbes.
Within the blink of an eye, she magically transforms herself into her alter-ego, Pookie-Monster. And while I’m laying there in bed listening to the sounds of Hobbes getting murdered, I like to think they’re play-acting to get my attention.
Not liking this deliberate attempt at training me to do their bidding, I end up spending stupid amounts of time in bed pretending to be asleep.
Simon, from Simon’s Cat, has brilliantly depicted the struggle for dominance when one shares a home with tigers.