Look at him, looking so innocent.
Why the hell did the kitten wake me up at 4:40? We had twenty minutes of meows, one good gut-pounce, and he was threatening some toenail biting. It's not like I'm sleeping with earplugs in (or socks on, in this heat). At what point does one just give in?
I mean, I had to pee anyways, but now I don't really know what to do with myself. It's not like he raced over for breakfast - I gave him a plate of wet just now and he shovelled the floor around it quite enthusiastically (before nonetheless chowing down - there's some mixed messaging there: He was like, "Grr, this is shit, this is shit, cover it up, cover it up, oh wait, no, this is okay..." He usually waits an hour or so after a floor-shovel before begrudgingly going back to it but he actually made me change this paragraph before I had finished it). It's not like he ate so much of it that we can conclude he was ravenous. And he has dry food, always. If it was all about the food, really, he isn't letting on.
Maybe it's because it's light out and it's summer and he was just bored? He's leaned into some cheek scratches. But even still, he's nowhere to be seen now. Now that I'm awake, he's just not very interested. I'm not even sure where he is, as I type this.
So what does the kitten want?
Friends have had cats get ill lately. One cat has passed (RIP, Ruben). Another just inspired a gig I went to, to cover medical bills.
But Nicholas is doing fine, with his posh food (Royal Canin "Thin Slices and Gravy" kittenfood is his preferred brand, at three bucks a can), his odd lack of shedding (you'd think, with his coat... but no), and his early morning sprints around the apartment (not yet begun - my downstairs neighbours can be grateful for that, because he's not a small cat; he's 12 pounds now, and might get quite a bit bigger. But he's letting THEM sleep, and Erika too...).
Can I go back to bed, now, Nicholas? I'm pretty tired and I have things I want to do later today.
By the way, here's a video clip I shot of Nicholas hanging out in a sink full of cold water, and doing other eccentric things - some under-the-door paw action. Weird little animal, he is.
I mean, at least we don't have a pet owl or something - I'd hate to see what THOSE do when it's 4 in the morning and they're bored: "Claws to the testicles and fly - GO!"
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