My cats are trying to kill me. I’m absolutely convinced. And I honestly have no idea why. But here’s what happens – daily.
The sunrise alarm clock slowly brings me out of my sleep. When the other clock, the one that plays music, comes on a few minutes later, Jool jumps up on the bed and either greets me or starts yelling at me. I never know which it’s going to be. I suppose it depends on whether she slept on the bed and how much I tossed and turned through the night.
I sit up, put on my slippers and walk to the bathroom. This is where it starts to get dicey, y’all. Because Jool sometimes stops at the end of the bed, right as I’m in mid-step. And so I dodge or trip. Or both. Now, she doesn’t always do this. She’ll do it for days on end until I’ve developed a habit of pausing and reaching my foot out to tap her on the butt to keep her moving. And then she won’t do it for a long time. And then the habit dies.
Jool knows this. Obviously. And so does her sister!
Katie, for her part, is often lying in the doorway. Sometimes she gives me “the eye” which tells me she’s not moving, come hell or high water, and so I step over her. Just like Jool, she does this day after day after day after day. Until I’m in the habit of stepping over her. Then, out of nowhere – after this has been working perfectly for days on end – she jumps up and runs just as I’m in mid-step. Sometimes she runs in the direction my foot is headed, sometimes the other way. In either case, it’s startling. And so I dodge. Or trip. Or both.
Now mind you, I haven’t even made it to the bathroom yet and I have to pee like a stomped-on toad frog, and my cats have tried to kill me TWICE. That’s just rude. You’d think they could wait until I’ve emptied my bladder.
After my bladder is taken care of, it’s time for the dreaded Pilling and Feeding of the Cats. They both have kidney disease, Jool has high blood pressure, and Katie has some idiopathic intestinal ailment (that’s vet-speak, y’all), so they both take medicine every day. Neither of them like it, of course. And I have to hand it to them, although they often try to run from me, neither of them tries to kill me while I’m administering drugs. Maul me, yes. But not kill me.
However, changing their water and giving them food is, I guess, a prime opportunity that cannot be passed up. Apparently, it’s okay to try to kill the person who’s actively engaged in giving you food and water. The food is in the bowl and I’m just trying to put it on the floor next to the water bowl. And they get under my feet. And I trip. Or dodge. Or both.
Katie and Jool stay hidden away after I let the dogs out, but they usually have one or two more tripping challenges for me before I leave for work.
Evenings are more of the same tripping rituals when I feed them supper. Bedtime is slightly less deadly, but only if I go to bed and stay there. Heaven help me if I need to get a cup of water or the phone rings or something.
I just don’t understand this conspiracy of theirs. Why would you want to kill the person who brings you food? Who brushes your fur? Who scritches you behind the ears anytime you want?
Maybe it’s just a cat thing. Or maybe they’re trying to do me a favor. “Mom, we’ve noticed you’re not getting any younger. We’re just doing our part to make sure you have good reflexes. You’re welcome. Now feed us.”