Sunday, December 18, 2011
He has a routine. Early in the morning he'll walk through the house and creak out his meow until someone feeds him. Once he's been served, he comes back in the house and yells at anyone who will listen to him.
Once the house is quiet (meaning kids have left for school), he settles in for his six hour nap.
Around 3PM, he gets up, stretches, and starts demanding to be fed again whether his bowl has food in it or not. If he is ignored, which he usually is because dinner isn't until 5, he'll take a few sprints in the hallway, the extent of his exercise regime, and end up in the living room, complaining about God knows what (probably about not being fed), as he looks out the sliding glass door.
From this point on, if anyone makes their way to the kitchen, he is right behind them, singing the same song.
Again, after being fed his dinner, he'll come back in and give us an earful as if he was starving.
Once the family has settled in for the night, he'll take any available lap and park it.
At bedtime, he'll either lay down with Marty as she unwinds with a movie or cuddle up with Julia in her bed.
Every night before I turn in I track him down and put him back in the garage where he sleeps for the evening.
I'd like to be the cat (except for the sleeping in the garage part).