The night before I had set my zentangle pens and notebook on the floor by my bed. Jack found them. Jack started to bite the pens in order to pick them up and then drop them repeatedly on the notebook.
Then I hear him walking away to the dresser on the other side of the room.
At the dresser he rubs his head against the edge so that it makes this lovely rubbing/scraping sound that in a dead sleep is enough to make you want to scream.
In a moment of insanity I entertained the idea of finding anything within arms reach to toss in his direction to get him to stop. Instead I cracked one eye open and watched him perform the routine one more time.
At this point, he stopped, and slowly looked up at me and realized he made eye contact. (My cats don't meow, they haven't since we've adopted them from the rescue. Instead they have this chirp that is combined with a cute purr and at the end of the chirp the sound rises in the same way our voices do when we ask a question. It's enough to break your heart--even at 7am.)
"No, Jack. Five more minutes. PLEASE."
I see his paw slowly reach out towards the pens, all while maintaining eye contact with me, and bats it across the floor.
"Seriously?" This is the part where I swear he smiled because he knew I was ticked off and about to get out of bed.
I begrudgingly slid out of bed and fed the cats. Then I washed the dishes, swept the floor, cleaned up the house, took out the recycling and I was just about to throw on my boots and shovel some snow outside when I poked my head inside my bedroom and Jack was--get this!--SLEEPING. This fool woke me up at 7am for his food, and now he's fast asleep. The audacity. The nerve. The--oh, look he just sighed a little and he just looks so cute!
I can never stay mad at him for very long at all. After all, I was productive this morning. Now perhaps I want a little cat-nap. :)