At 7:00 am, I woke up.
That’s always where the trouble starts, isn’t it?
It was a relatively cool 85 degrees out, as I recall, and the sun was blazing like nobody’s business as I dragged myself out of bed. After I got the first
of my morning routines, which involves side-stepping my running shoes and whatever other crap accumulated on the floor the day and night before out of the way, I went to make coffee. I saw one of my two cats, Roddy, was just under foot, and happily avoided stomping the furry little bastard into oblivion. The cat also saw me, and made a beeline to the kitchen. Little guy knows that when I make my coffee, I also get him his breakfast, and he wants his food as bad as I want my coffee.
“MEW!” he says to me, looking me in the eye the moment I walk into the kitchen. “DUDE!” I respond in as similar a tone and timber as I can manage. He jumps onto his table, after stretching and clawing one end of it with rapier sharp claws. I don’t mind, and neither does he. After looking at me intently for a minute, he takes up laying on the table, trying to be as nonchalant as he can manage, but he’s got his eye on me, both of us ignoring the heat of the kitchen from the heat of the hottest summer either of us have known.
I go to work on getting my coffee ready. I realized as soon as I walked into the kitchen that I had in fact forgotten to clean out the pot after my last cup of java the evening prior. Slightly annoyed by this, I go through the how many ever step process of vaguely cleaning out the pot. And when I say vaguely cleaning I mean it.
I pour some tepid water on the percolator top, take out and rinse the spreader plate just a lil, dump yesterday’s grounds, and then rinse that bit just enough to make sure the grounds are off, water the stem a mite, dump out the remnants of yesterday’s coffee, swish some running water around the coffee maker once or twice, then add water, coffee and the bits of the coffee maker in the correct order, and make some more coffee.
It makes for strong coffee on the days when that happens.
It is vitally important to note that I do clean it most of the time, and keep the insides of the coffee maker spotless when not in use, but sometimes I forget. Remember to ask when coming to visit if I cleaned the coffee maker properly or not. I might not give a straight answer, but you’ll get some mighty fine coffee, or at least coffee that hasn’t killed anyone in hours.
The cat knows the routine. When I hit the button on the coffee maker, he gets up and stretches, getting ready to eat. I go to where the cat food is, grab two cans of beef cat food, and give the signal that breakfast is about to be served. I clank the cans together twice, loudly. The first can of food I open, I open and begin to put in the other cat, Minky’s, bowl. I add a ¼ teaspoon, maybe even less of fiber to his bowl, as he needs the help, otherwise he has issues, like constant diarrhea, which this stuff helps alleviate.
He craps funny, but it isn’t a joke. Mix in his fiber, mix, mix, mix. Coffee maker makes a noise, it is ready to go.
Mix in his fiber, put the can in his bowl upside down, and with a herky-jerky motion, tap the can on the base of his bowl very rapidly, causing the can to make a rapid “tik-tok” noise. While doing this, Roddy gets up, even though it isn’t his food. He knows he’s next. I open his can while taking a momentary break from working on Minky’s food, and let Roddy sniff his can. Eyes wide, nose pointed slightly up at the can, he sniffs, then licks the can. I pull the can back and tell the boy to relax, and begin again to work the “tik-tok” of the cans, this time both cans simultaneously.
Minky is a lump, he is still in the living room, teaching the world what the word “inert” means. The coffee is beginning to percolate, I can smell it now.
Roddy puts both feet on the counter, which is all of 4 inches away from his table, leans forward as far as he can and sticks his nose in the bowl. I push him back, and tell him to cool his jets. He does, but gives me a plaintive “MEW!” So I say “DUDE!”, and pull the cans out of their bowls. Make sure all the food is in their bowls, and place them on their respective tables. Roddy fairly well leaps on his food, slurping away like he hasn’t been fed in a week, despite the fact that he has a bowl of dry food on the table that I am about to toss, one he has had access to all night.
Minky is nowhere near the food. I grab his bowl, and bring it to him in the living room, to let him sniff the food. He does momentarily, shows some interest, ears perk up, he looks ready to eat, moves his butt like he’s going to get up and come eat. I bring the bowl back inside, then walk back into the room. He’s still resting, his butt has moved, albeit two inches to the left, and now he is reclining on his side when he was on his stomach before. Shows no signs of having even seen the food a mere 15 seconds ago, and seems to want to not eat.
So I bring him in the kitchen to his bowl. I know, I know, I spoil the boy like I’m his servant. So what? He’s my cat, I’ll spoil the boy as I please. He eats, Roddy is done before Minky even starts. The coffee still isn’t ready, but it’s close.
I have a long day of running and running around in 100°+ temperatures. 7 miles of running, walk a mile and a half to the store to get food, come back, do laundry, cook, workout, look for permanent employment. Cats don’t mind. Neither do I.
Dammit that coffee is taking it’s sweet time this morning, isn’t it?
That’s it from here, America. G’night.