It's a little early for me

This is the second day (or is it the third? Oh, wait, no. This is definitely the fourth day) where my brain has decided to get up around 5a.m. This is a little disconcerting, but I suppose I am meant to listen to it and find something to do at this very early hour.

The first time it happened I was successful at simply repositioning my head a little on the pillow and returning to la-la-land without significant interruption. The second morning it happened I - naturally - rolled over and ignored the rooster in my brain. I kept my eyes shut and my breathing level, hoping to lull myself back to sleep without much effort.

It didn't work.

Yesterday, I lay awake fighting the urge to stretch and open my eyes. Alas, the urges proved too much for me, and...ping! Awake again at 5:06a.m.

I lazed around under the covers until I could stand it no further. I had done an inventory in my head of things to accomplish for the day (holy crap do I have some stuff to get done)...listened to the cats' grumbling tummies...turned on the TV to find something interesting (God bless PBS), and finally...f-i-n-a-l-l-y swung myself into action.

Today was about the same, but different. I didn't laze as long under the covers - furry creatures have been working upstairs at doing things they oughtn't be doing. Most notably, Cleo. Her hunger monster was raging this morning, and she was determined to get food any way possible.

I seriously believe the other two put her up to these little tricks, but I can't prove it (yet). How do you polygraph a cat?

So I climbed out of bed and up the stairs accompanied by familiar dances of kitty joy and expectation.

"Hurray!," you could hear the cats silently cheering. The best thing is the swirling eddy dance they do as they implore me to the feeding zone. "Hurry. Hurry! Up the stairs. Yea!" Around the bend at the top, where they begin Opus I of the Meow-alluhia Chorus.

Furry little sharks with sweet little voices and happy little feet.

"C'mon, c'mon...yea! She's walking to the kitchen!!" Drool puddles line the runway to their plate. Cleo follows me to the fridge; her job is to count the cans I pull from it.

Quick, trot faster. "Watch the feet...mind you don't trip her!"

There is a pause at the feeding zone where it takes a moment to spoon portions onto the plate at three points around the edge - one for each girl.

There is much purring and tail swishing. Hopeful, happy, hungry eyes, and little pleas from them as the plate is readied. I love to taunt...er, that is, I talk to them while they wait.

"Oh, meow...get on with it...meow. Is it ready? Meow. Are we there yet? Meow."

Eventually, each of the three has uttered their share of noises, and the plate is lowered to waiting mouths and growling guts.

Aahhhhh......the sound of purring quickly gives way to the sounds of chewing, licking, grunting and swallowing.

It's earlier than normal for them to be fed, but I don't hear any complaints.

The only real problems with getting up this early is that it's not nice enough outside, yet, to go walking, and I have a real hard time not nodding off before 9:30p.m.! But I guess those aren't really problems, are they?

Here's hoping your troubles are few and surmountable.