Morning Mayhem

I am writing this on the heels of a morning that carried even more frenetic activity than the typical ‘routine’ of steady stares, soft inquisitive whiskers brushing my cheek, the stab of sharpened claws drawing blood at times, trampling, murmured trills, occasional tussles and arguments, and of course the prerequisite hair ball.  All of this occurs before the sun peeks up over the eastern line and before my feet have left the coziness of the bed and touched the floor.  Of course those of you sharing space with a feline, or multiples have experienced these things and more at some point; or maybe this is just the normal way for you to start a day.  It certainly is for me.

At one point, Scrappy for some odd reason keeps challenging her nemesis.  She comes at Frannie from across the head of the bed above my pillow, receives the expected swat on the face, goes back and then returns again.  Good for her, she’s finally developing some spine.  This is way out of character.   When I finally turn over to get the full picture I discover Brogan at the opposite side of the pillow in mid swing as he sends Scrappy back toward Frannie.  The odd game of catch, or mouse, goes on for at least five more passes before I finally untangle myself from the covers to break it up.

This is when the group splits, some running out the bedroom door in anticipation of breakfast while Zeke takes aim and nails each as they pass.  The others jump in line for a drink from the bathroom faucet.  Scrappy, who has charged blindly ahead of me under a false sense of security is now standing in the toilet.  She typically uses the lid as a launching point to get to the counter but well, I’ve rudely forgotten to put it back down.  She has conditioned herself to run from Frannie and the Zs, eat, and sleep under the covers, but this is not something she can sort out on her own.   Plucking her out with one arm I grab a towel, turn the faucet on for Harri, trip over Brogan who in the excitement is struggling to catch his breath, step around the ever patient Eva who has run the ‘Z’ gauntlet to get back into the room to see what the hold up is, and then do my best to contain the mess of dripping toilet water.

After sweeping up the litter that I know Zorro has worked so hard to excavate and distribute on the floor around the box, and sterilizing the entire bathroom, it’s time to eat.   Brogan’s inhaler has finally had its effect and he can manage the stairs on his own.  All other medications have been distributed and consumed ‘as directed’.  The dog is eating happily and is lost in her own world; tail and body swinging with contentment.  I’ve managed my way through the chaos of twirling and pacing cats.  It’s one collective yelling match (excluding me-although I might just consider it) that gradually fades off to just the occasional grumble as each checks the others’ bowls while they are filled to make sure the service has been fair.  Then all I can hear is munching and purrs.

Finally, I can settle down with a mug of coffee-actually, let’s make it a double since I’m going to be here all day with the furry hooligans.