After a tough school week of getting up early in the morning and falling asleep late night, I planned to laze in bed this morning. At six in the morning, I hear rustling and my old monkey bedroom doorbell ringing and ringing and ringing and ringing. I actually completely ignored the loud noises to the best of my ability. In the back of my head, I knew it was the kitty but I was too delirious to bother looking up.
Ten more sleepless minutes passed and the urgent flapping of wings against cage bars and bell toys echoes down the hall all the way from the kitchen. Thinking the birds are experiencing nightmares(happens every once in a while), I drag myself out of bed to tend to my birdies. Kitty Henry rests at the bottom of the cage, eagerly staring his "friends" down, most likely snacking on them in his mind. I grab the cat and slowly return to bed and slip on the covers with him by my head. Within moments, he dashes out into the kitchen and, amidst the early morning silence, a long desperate meow sounds out. Reluctantly, I finally understand that he is hungry and will do anything to get food placed in front of him. Peeling back the comfy covers, I stumble to the kitchen in the dark and fix his food(courtesy of Trader Joes, who actually carries amazing cat food). As he happily eats, I literally stand their waiting for him to finish. If we leave his wet food out for too long, the ants invade. Miserable at 6:30 am, I rinse his bowl and give him the dirtiest look I could manage before locking him out of my room to roam until someone else wakes up. I could not fall back asleep. So much for sleeping in.
Henry, I must love you a lot.