The Cat as Cosmic Alarm Clock

So there I am, snoozing in the recliner, as I am wont to do at any hour when I'm tired enough to actually get some sleep.

Then The Cat objects. Mightily and vehemently. A volume-maximized yeeooowl that leaves no room for misinterpretation. Get UP. NOW.

Of course I pay attention. She is my owner, after all, and I am duty-bound to serve, whatever the cost. Either the house is on fire or she needs something critical. I'm sure she has her reasons, and I'm in no position to demand an explanation.

I glance over at the clock: 7:25 AM. By my bleary-eyed calculations, I've achieved 1 hour and 24 minutes of sleep. Well, heck, that should be enough to see me through whatever it is that she wants. I stagger to my feet, stagger to my desk, grab blindly for my coffee cup and try to remember which way the kitchen is, performing the morning cat-dictated checklist as I go.

Tuna - done at 5:45 AM
Fresh water - done at 5:47 AM
Litter box - done at 5:50 AM
Dry food check - done at 5:59 AM
All Cat Systems are a Go.

I walk to my desk, trying to find my mouth with the coffee cup, realize the coffee is cold, and give up. I sit down and wait to see what the next demand will be. It is 7:29 AM.

At 7:30 sharp, the phone rings. One of my East Coast affiliates is returning my call from yesterday.

"Oh, good! You're awake!!" It's 10:30 AM for her, still o'dark'o'clock for me.

"Of course I'm awake," I lie through my teeth and glare at the cold coffee. As I decide to drink it anyway, I hear a soft, very self-satisfied purr from near my right ankle. As the East Coast affiliate rep starts to answer my list of questions, I stare at The Cat, who nods sagely in return. Of course the phone would ring at 7:30 AM, The Cat telepaths. If you were The Cat, you would simply know these things.