Mornings

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Arguably, there are few times of day better than sunrise. The human world is all hushed with quiet, still asleep. There is no traffic noise, no noisy neighbours. Just a quiet stillness, quivering with anticipation for the day ahead. The plant world is awakening to a mist of dew and is stretching out limbs of green foliage to reach the first rays of sun as they peek over the horizon. The animal world is alive and active, with birds singing and seeking insects, bunny rabbits hopping through the fields, all the animals foraging for their first morsels of the day – breakfast.

Little wonder then when my own cat does the same thing.

This is Tigger.

And he has developed an interesting technique for foraging for his breakfast. Generally speaking, between 05:00 and 07:00, he likes to jump on the bed (oof!!) while my partner and I are fast asleep. He makes sure he does this with the full force and complete weight of his body, such that my partner and I wonder if maybe we’d just forgotten last night’s party and had passed out on the trampoline in the neighbour’s back yard.

If catapulting us to the ceiling doesn’t get any attention, he will then stand on my chest and, while purring loudly in my ear, rub his cheeks against my cheeks, to remind me how much he loves me at this time of day. He has chosen me for this special honour because my partner is immune to his charms before sunrise, lost in the blissful oblivion of sleep. Tigger has figured out that I’m a real softie and that it’s difficult for me to yell at him for waking me up two hours before the alarm goes off when I’m feeling all loved up by him. He just purrs and rubs and rubs and purrs, secretly laughing to himself.

He missed his calling. Tigger should have been a psychologist.

So now that I’ve dragged myself out of bed and have fed my poor, starving, and obviously malnourished cat (or so he would have me believe at this time of day), I’m peacefully sitting on the sofa, sipping a mug of hot chocolate, watching the sun come up against the background of birds fluttering in the trees.

And all is right with the world.