Last night, I slept badly. Fell asleep with the TV muttering to itself, woke up to find it was busy Voyaging To The Bottom Of The Sea (did you know there was a real flying submarine?) and both cats had colonized me. I shut it off, dozed off but kept waking up.
When the alarm went off at six, I fed both cats, as contractually required (just ask 'em -- they've got a strong union!) and laid back down. I was absolutely out until ten, when Huck decided I'd slept long enough -- he climbed on my shoulder and batted at my face until I woke up, nose to nose with with a concerned tomcat. When the cat thinks you're sleeping too much, you probably are.
Cats are wonderful and amazing creatures.
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My former feline landlord was very vocally adamant that if I wouldn't feed her at 4:30am, the least I could do would be to allow her outside so she could feed herself. And she could put up quite the filibuster until one demand was fulfilled.
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