In the morning, just after my alarm goes off, while I am laying in the silence, I hear the patter of paws.  He knows.  He sits on the floor waiting, he won’t jump up until he knows for sure I am awake.  He just watches.  I give him some encouragement – it’s okay, I’m up!  He considers it.  I pat the bed, he is convinced and hops up.  He begins kneading my bladder, purring contentedly.  This is our morning routine.

I eventually roll out of bed, and he follows, meowing incessantly.  I have gotten him hooked on cat treats (the tartar control kind) and he knows that me being out of bed means he might get some.  He sits patiently outside the bathroom door, then comes in as I start washing my face and brushing my teeth.  I pick him up and he purrs.  He loves being high up and seeing the view.  He is terrified of the outdoors, but when I carry him on the patio he leans his head out – wanting to see everything that he doesn’t usually get to see.

I rush about doing my morning routine with him wrapped around my legs, irritating me, meowing.  I give him treats if he hasn’t already had a ton (which is usually the case).  I scoop him up every once and a while and go about putting on clothes and eyeliner.

Once I start making my coffee he realizes the morning routine is over and he heads to the closet, to hide in his cubby and await my return in the evening.  Even when I am home all day, he stays in his blanket-lined cubby, sleeping until the evening.


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