Once upon a time, I had a large, grey and white cat named Bean. She was a sweet and loving girl, but no one would have described her as, um, clever. She was NOT clever. She was, however, exceptionally affectionate and slept on a pillow next to my head, rarely (if ever) waking me up in the middle of the night.
Currently, I have a tiny tabbycat named Lizzie B. She is also a sweet and loving girl. She’s smarter than Bean, but then, so are most inanimate objects. She is also exceptionally affectionate and sleeps on my feet in the nighttime.
She also delights in waking me up.
Bean was a grazer – that is, she had dry food in a bowl at all times, and would have a nosh when the mood struck her. Since she weighted eighteen pounds, one would think that the mood struck her with some regularity but surprisingly, she didn’t really eat that much. With no set “eating” schedule (with the exception of the cookies that she got every morning), she was pretty chill at all hours.
Lizzie does not get to graze. She has food allergies that restrict what she can eat, and only eats wet food. She can have one large can of food a day.
She thinks she should get more than one can of food.
She also thinks that she should eat every time someone sets foot in the general direction of her food bowl.
She ALSO thinks that there is nothing better than a midnight snack. Even if her loyal minion (and I’m pretty sure that this is how she thinks of me) is sleeping. And if loyal minion does happen to be sleeping, then Lizzie is perfectly happy to wake me up by climbing up onto my pillow and pawing at my face. If that is not effective, she involves her claws as if so say, “Human! You leave me no choice but to resort to violence!”
For a time, I tried to ignore her desire for late night dining, but refusing to acknowledge her doesn’t make her go away. It makes her more aggressive… and since we’re talking about my FACE here, which I don’t enjoy having permanently scarred … I generally get up.
We do this at around two AM. Every day.
Beansie may have been dumb, but she was content to let me sleep.
Lizzie wants noms and she wants them NOW.
Last night, however, when Lizzie was poking me in the eyes and drooling on me, I got up and walked into the kitchen to find that there was food in her bowl. I looked at the food.
Lizzie looked at the food. Then she looked at me with something like horror (which Bean would never have been able to pull off – her main facial expressions were “happy” and “confused”) and sheepishly began to eat the food as if to say, “I’m sorry! It was food time! I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED PLEASE GO BACK TO BED I WON’T WAKE YOU AGAIN!”
She didn’t. I did get up later and feed her again, but it’s because one of us is very well trained.