I play on social media for a living. Okay, it is actual real work. Sometimes it is even more hard than fun. But imagine getting sucked into the Facebook time warp…times six because that’s how many different personalities I have. On Facebook. So it is not a good thing for me to “check what is happening on my Facebook pages” at midnight. This is why I was up at 2 a.m. on Sunday morning (a.k.a. Saturday night) for Oliver to ask for breakfast.

We’ve been here before.

“Do you promise to let us sleep in in the morning if I feed you now?”

Yes. Yes, of course he would.

So Sunday morning, he starts in on me. Feed me. Feeeeeed me. FEED ME! He poked me in the nose. He bit my ear. He jumped and lunged and yowled. I flung my arms at him, trying to shove him away. It was obnoxious. I got angrier and angrier. He jumped up on the bed and I shoved him hard. He returned over and over.

Then Oliver poked me gently on the nose and meowed. Feed me?

I was up and out of bed, following him and Obi down the stairs. When we got to the breakfast nook, I snatched him up. “YOU PROMISED!!!” I yelled and pushed him into the stairwell to the basement. I slammed the door shut behind me.

As I walked back up the stairs, I started to wake up a little bit. And I realized…it was all in a dream. Oliver had not done most of what he was in trouble for. Oh. But it was still 7 a.m., far from sleeping in, so I left him in the basement. I crawled back into bed and Obi jumped in with us. Play? The Boy and I rubbed the brown kitten’s belly for a minute. Then he was off – he didn’t want to snuggle.

Two seconds after I closed my eyes, I needed to use the bathroom.

When I returned to bed, I realized I was awake. And guilty.

I went back downstairs and liberated the grey kitten. He fixed me with a questioning gaze: breakfast? No. I picked him up and we snuggled on the couch. It’s the second best thing to breakfast. And nobody – awake or asleep – gets in trouble for snuggles.


Sunday night, I rolled over in bed and found Pine Cone Mousie. Obi must have decided that he needed to bring The Boy a toy to clarify what HE wants in the morning.


2 responses to “Rage

  1. Poor unjustly imprisoned Oliver. I’m glad he won his appeal.

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