It's not even 9AM yet and I'm already tired. No, it's not Monday morning syndrome, it's the influence of evil Au.
Au woke me up at 4AM with a yikyikyik to say he was out of cat biscuits. That's OK. I stumbled out of bed, filled up the bowl and managed to stay asleep during the whole exercise in that nocturnal zombie-like trance that seems to be the province of most cat servants.
But at 5AM mr kitty hopped on the bed with a loud AAAAUUUUU, a sure sign he wants to talk. I hid under the bedclothes and pretended to be dead. Au tried again. MEEEOUW-WOW! He cried.
I extended a hand from under the covers, put fingers to his shoulder and pushed. Taken completely by surprise, Au tumbled out of bed.
You should have seen his face. At first Shocked and Appalled, he quickly became Outraged, Furious, and finally Incensed.
Now he’s sitting on his rug with his back to me to show he Isn’t Speaking.
I have no problem with the servant-to-the-master thing cats insist on, but surely we're allowed an uninterrupted night's sleep?
I can try and reason with him but in the end the most important thing is to make up. Otherwise he’ll waken me at 2AM, 3AM, 4AM, 5AM in sheer catly revenge.