When the cats determine it is time for breakfast, Shelley sits outside our bedroom door and meows. (By the way, Shelley doesn’t have a sweet kitty meow like Bella. She has a deeper, I-smoke-three-packs-a-day meow.)
If I don’t jump up when I hear her meowing, she will meow and scratch at the bedroom door.
If I still do not appear, or if I yell, “Go away you little pain in the ass! It’s not time to eat!” Shelley will reach under the door, grab ahold of it, and shake the damn thing off its hinges.
At this point, there is no way in hell I’m still asleep.
Why she needs to do this at all is beyond me. I feed those cats every morning. Food is coming! I’m not going to forget. Pretty much every day, including weekends, there will be kibble in their bowls by 6:30am.
But lately Shelley has been very persistent with this door-shaking business. And the problem with that?
She does it at 4 freaken am.
At first I would just yell “No!” at her. (She pauses just long enough to see if you got up and then resumes being a bitch.) I tried opening the door and spraying her with water. (This doesn’t seem to bother her at all, and she will be banging again as soon as the door is shut.) I even put a plastic gate at the end of the hallway because Shelley is usually too lazy to move, less mind conquer obstacles. (But the next morning, there was Fat Ass, parked outside the door as usual.)
Right now I have dark circles under my eyes. Shelley is peacefully napping on top of the stereo.
I wonder how she’d like being an outdoor cat.
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