I hear locomotives 30 miles in the distance. I hear the neighbor chewing out his kid for missing curfew. I hear the wind as it introduces a thunderstorm.
Mostly, I hear my cat.
Misty, our 18-pound gray tabby, is my personal nightmare. My first wake-up call this morning came at 2:18, the second at 3:40. At 7, tired of the charade, I staggered out of bed.
First she wanted fresh water (I made the mistake of fetching her water from the tap a few months ago and have regretted it ever since). The other time, I feigned putting food in her dish, which was already full.
But let’s be real. The main reason Misty bothers me is this: she’s up and I’m not.
I’ve tried to ignore her but she refuses.
To try to get me to stir, she used to flick the door- stop thingy. So I removed it. Now she jiggles the pocket door. Or paws at paper package lying in the floor. Or jumps on the bed and gets in my face.
It is 8 a.m. on a Sunday and I’m on the couch wide awake. Misty is at my feet sound asleep.
Another mission accomplished.