Thursday, December 20, 2012

4 AM Wake Up Call

I know, she looks so sweet and innocent. That's how they SURVIVE.

Bean -- who, it's pretty obvious, has me wrapped around her fluffy paws and floofy, scritchable tummy -- has a new favorite thing. It's called: "Wake Yellie up at 4 AM."

This is not, as you might guess, MY new favorite thing.

Those of you who have not had the pleasure of meeting Miss Bean won't know this, so I will tell you: Bean doesn't meow. Her meow-er is broken. However, she has a wide array of vocalizations, all of which sound like they're straight out of a movie about the cutest animals ever. She kind of ... chirps. And makes noises that honestly, sound kind of like questions, like "Brrrrrpppffft?"

The adorable factor of this when I am awake? Through the roof.

It's not so cute when it's waking me up. No, wait, that's a lie. It's still pretty freaking cute. But that doesn't stop me from swatting in her general direction in a "please, for the love of all that is holy, allow me to go back to sleep" manner.

It rarely works.

Apparently, in Beansie's walnut sized little brain, something happens at 4 AM. That something is only loosely related to the desire for noms and seems to be more like "Oh, look, there's my human. I LOVE HER. SHE NEEDS TO BE AWAKE SO I CAN TELL HER I LOVE HER."

There's chirping. And mad purring. And pushing her face into my face and licking my nose (and, okay, maybe nipping at it quite gently). And then, when none of those things work, she goes for it and ...

... well. You know how I always say she's a few bricks shy of a load? She is. But she is also DIABOLICAL. Because if none of the other "Hey, Yellie, GET UP" tricks work, she gets behind my pillow, purring and chirping away ("laalaalaaaaaa it's a brand new day and I love my hummmmaaaaannn") and then bites my hair and YANKS.

People: this is not the way you would like to greet your day. In case you were wondering, 15 pounds of cat can apply quite a bit of force to an unsuspecting scalp.

Also, in case you were wondering why I don't just shut her out of the room? It's not ONLY because I spoil her rotten (and yes, I am willing to admit that I do) but also because it breaks her little heart. We're talking about a cat who, when I go to the mailbox, runs to the window so she can watch me come back. Who gets so lonely when I shower that she feels compelled to join me. Who starts purring when I say her name.  If I shut her out of a room I am in, she not only cries as though she's being taken to the vet, but she also hurls herself against the door with loud, dramatic thuds which are kind of counterproductive if the end goal is keeping the cat from waking you up.

None of the above, by the way, is what is driving me batty about the 4 AM wake up calls.

No. What IS driving me batty is this: I get up. She purrs with joy and runs out of the room so she can jump up onto the dining room table and see where I'm going so she can follow me there. I inevitably change out her food (which she may or may not be interested in), give her some cookies (which she'll eat), get her some new water (which she will not care about), make some coffee, and then sit on the couch.

Where she will join me.

And where she will promptly curl up and ...


This ... THIS ... is what makes me bitter and angry with the world. Some days I look at her and think, "I should totally bug her so she knows how it feels."

But then I look at her sweet little snoozie face and don't. Because she's so cute.

And because I am a SUCKER.

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