Brokefast

As I mentioned earlier this week, yesterday was the 50th anniversary of Doctor Who. Before I watched the special episode which, due to the world wide simulcast, aired in Wyoming at 12:50 p.m., I wanted to catch up on episode I’d missed last spring.

So I was up at 4:15 a.m.

That time is also known as the crack of Oliver-isn’t-even-hungry-yet. He was willing to get up and eat breakfast when I got up. And then he climbed into my pile of blankets on the couch and we watched the Doctor Who marathon. It was a good day for the kittens as I didn’t move from the couch, except for coffee and bathroom runs, for ten hours.

And the special episode was awesome.

Saturday night, The Boy decided that sleeping in the chair was silly so he went upstairs to bed before I did. I finished what I was doing and got ready to sleep as well. But here’s where I did something smart.

Realizing that Kitten Thunder had eaten at 4:20 a.m., I knew they would be hungry early. Really early. To give myself some uninterrupted hours of sleep, I fed them a bonus breakfast shortly after midnight.

Then I was stupid and left the bathroom door open. I blame this on the fact that someone knocked everything off the nightstand. This everything included my alarm clock and bite guard (in a case). I found the clock at arm’s length under the bed. I did not find my bite guard and gave up – one night of teeth grinding wouldn’t kill anyone. But I was distracted; hence the open door.

So Obi bump bump bumped in the night.

And since I was awake, Oliver would be okay with some breakfast. If I wanted. Did I want? How about now? Now? Aaaaaand now? No? Now?

Finally, The Boy got up. I heard him talking to Oliver. Oliver was maintaining that he was starving to death. The Boy was suggesting that, since there was a can on the top of the garbage in the can, perhaps starvation was a strong word. I wondered if I should get up long enough to tell The Boy that they did, in fact, need to be fed. But then I heard a can open.

A while later, Oliver was back in bed for his extended Sunday snuggle.

A while after than, when I got up, Oliver didn’t get up right away. He didn’t tell me he was starving. I assumed everything was right with the world.

But then I noticed there was not a second can of food in the garbage. I confirmed it with The Boy. Kitten Thunder did not get fed this morning. The Boy had seen the evidence and assumed that I’d gotten up without waking him to feed them. And I didn’t make it up to them by feeding them at any other point today.

Oh, the catmanity.

I’m sure they’ll be ready to eat at around 4 a.m. tomorrow.

Oh, the Girlmanity.

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2 responses to “Brokefast

  1. Poor Oli. He was probably too weak from hunger to ask for breakfast.

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