I don’t remember what I was dreaming about, just that my dream ended with a THWAP! against my cheek.
I turned away pointlessly and felt another slap against my chin, this time with an untrimmed claw scraping against the stubble.
“What the %&@$?” I mumbled, opening my eyes to find Bud sitting on my chest, his nose inches from mine, paw slightly raised to deliver another slap.
“No! No, Bud, don’t you…ow! You little turd!”
I sat up, forcing him to slide off my chest into my lap, and looked at him through groggy eyes.
“What was that for?” I asked him.
He meowed indignantly and I grasped like a blind man for my glasses and phone.
That’s when it hit me. Daylight Savings Time had ended overnight, the clocks had fallen back automatically because everything is networked these days, and from Bud’s perspective I had slept past our wake up time.
It was nearly Yums O’Clock, my feline overlord didn’t see any signs indicating I’d be rolling out of bed soon, so his solution was to slap me in the face to wake me up.
Naturally.
No hard feelings, either. Bud may be a weird cat, but he’s my weird cat and I love the little dude.
I’m writing about this not only because it’s funny, but also because feline timekeeping is shockingly accurate. Half the time I don’t even know what day it is, but my little pal knows when breakfast is due, down to the minute.
What other sort of impressive feats could felines accomplish if we can associate them with meal time in their minds?
