5:30 AM is not a fine time to wake up.
I managed six and a half hours of sleep before something (I still can't pinpoint what) woke me up. As I lay there, trying to go back to sleep, my efforts were thwarted by the sound of squalling seagulls outside, obviously fighting for their morning meal. I can't imagine what they would fight over, as the canal is still mostly drained, so there isn't likely a great deal of fish in the open parts (most of the canal is still covered by a wide swath of ice on both sides, leaving the middle exposed), and I can't imagine there's much in the way of worm meat.
Anyway, in addition the gulls, there was the usual din of a city waking up...garbage trucks start making their rounds, maybe the wail of an emergency vehicle...and then there's the curse of the waking Purrball.
Our fat little Purrball may be prone to carrying a little extra curvature, but she's helped along by her absolute *insistence* on having access to food at all times. I feed her twice daily (wet and dry in the morning, dry only in the evening) and leave the bowls for her throughout the day because if I didn't, she would literally howl her guts out all. day. long.
In the mornings, this howling is muted, and only lasts about 10-20 minutes, depending on how long it takes me to get dressed and clean her dish, largely because she prefers to remind us in other ways that she wants me to wake up and feed her: she sits on one of our chests (she's not picky), purring, and "cutes" her way into getting under the blanket and snuggling between the two of us.
This morning, her ritual started early because she heard me tossing and turning. So much for going back to sleep.
Mr. Sandman...
...Wish you were here.
No comments:
Post a Comment