This is closely followed by Oscar, the tuxedo cat, who mews…not meows, that isn’t a typo. He mews. Loudly. Over and over until you pet him. This is generally followed by a tussle as he sniffs at Marmalade.
This is then topped off by Spook, the gray cat, as he wanders from his nest on top of the dresser and jumps into the fray, usually landing on my full bladder.
The alarm goes off, and the parade is now in full swing.
Tygrrr (the striped one) is on the desk already waiting for breakfast. Marmalade and Oscar get into a fight every. single. morning. in the bathroom. Once everyone is fed, Bear (hairy white cat) jumps on the desk and wants treats and petting. Catzilla (mean black one) brushes back and forth by my feet until I get her treats, and then Marmalade pounds on the cat flap until I open the door and let her out. Yes, she knows how to work the cat flap, she’s just making sure I’m getting my exercise.
The little darlings.
Sylvester is usually the last to show. Sylvester is our enormous black, one-eyed cat. He’s usually good with a pet or two, a couple treats, and then back to a nap. He leads the good life.
But into the fray, someone has now dumped a fluffy orange cat at our house. He’s big, he’s very thin, and he needs a good brushing. He’s looking for a home.
As you can see from just the first 15 min of every day of my life spent with seven cats, eight might put me over the edge.
Anyone want a nice fluffy orange cat? I’ve already got an offer to send him to another farm…so if we can catch him…he can go live happily with other (hopefully normal) cats…
here kitty kitty.