Living with Velociraptors
This is Frankie. He’s a five-month old Turkish Van kitten.
Don’t let that sweet face fool you.
This is also Frankie. Photo taken approximately five seconds after the first one.
This is how Frankie starts every morning.
Ever-so gently bite mommy’s big toe. She kicks me off the bed if I bite too hard (which can be a fun game too sometimes) but she just says “Frankie” if I do it gentle-like.
Keep biting until Mommy looks at her cell phone and says “Frankie! It’s only 4 a.m.!” Then attack the cell phone viciously for waking up Mommy.
Now, this next point is critical. If skipped, breakfast can be delayed hours. When Mommy puts the phone down and rolls over, gently touch her face with cold nose and purr. Purr loudly. Right into her face. When she puts a pillow over her head, thump-jump on her chest.
I named it ‘thump-jump’ because that’s what it’s like. You know that jump when you go high as you can so your combined weight plus downward gravity creates a combined weight factor of approximately 100 pounds?
After Mommy says “ooomph,” purr loudly. “Make biscuits.” Claws extended of course, as proper biscuit-kneading requires.
Miraculously, Mommy is awake!
Occupy Mommy as she stumbles to the bathroom. When she stands up from the shiny white chair, attempt to leap into the mystery hole and collect the presents she just put in there.
Leap in and out and run around the rim of the mystery hole and play tag with Mommy. She yells. It sounds like —
That means ‘This is my favorite game ever at 4 a.m. you’re the best Frankie.”
Now, the big barky dog is also awake. Bark! Bark! Bark! Race him down the stairs. Right between his legs. Most of the time, he trips, and I win. Not that I’m counting (I totally am).