Wake Up and Smell the Cat Food

WAKE UP AND SMELL THE CAT FOOD

I was sound asleep in my comfortable bed, dreaming of being kissed all over my face, when suddenly it felt suspiciously like reality. Groggily I struggled to open an eye, but a wet sandpaper tongue licked my eyelid before I could. I groaned, knowing my favourite feline was awake and ready for his breakfast. Six o'clock every morning, rain or shine, was my wake-up call. Who needed an alarm clock when you have a hungry cat on the prowl?

Still tired, I tried to ignore Cinder's administrations but to no avail. More licks with the sandpaper tongue, first on one eyelid, then the other, until I was forced to open my eyes. When my furry friend saw me partially awake, he literally danced with glee. "Breakfast, Mom, and now!" he seemed to say with his persistent and loud meow.

Stalling for time, I rolled over on my stomach, and a second later, I felt my hair being pulled. Cinder knew the routine. If at first Plan A doesn't work, then resort to Plan B. This too-smart cat put his claws in my hair and then retracted them, resulting in my head being literally yanked. He knew how to get my attention.

I still wasn't moving fast enough, so now he resorted to Plan C. If you know what fingernails scraping on a chalkboard sounds like, multiply it tenfold and that is the sound of a cat's claws scratching the wall behind the bed. I cringed at the harshness of the sound, and finally gave up. Cinder had won, again.

In the kitchen, I opened a can of cat food while Cinder danced around my legs. He was obviously starving, the poor thing. Not having been fed for several hours, this pitiful fat cat was wasting away to a mere shadow of himself. Another moment and it would have been too late. Famished, he gulped down a mouse size portion of cat food, then licked his whiskers and sauntered away, sated for the moment. My duty was done.

Cinder was an appropriate name for this cat as he was entirely black, with just a few barely noticeable stray white hairs. He was so gentle when playing with children, allowing even the smallest child to carry him around in the most undignified position. Halloween was always fun, because Cinder sat at the big living room window and watched the costumed children who came trick or treating. They thought he was a Halloween prop. What better way to add to the ambiance of Halloween than with a black cat!

My mother always said that when a cat looks out the window, he is reading his newspaper, as the outdoors is a cat's world. I always commented that he was reading the Feline Free Press. Cinder never ventured out of the yard; instead stayed hidden behind the shrubs so he could see out without anyone seeing him. When we heard a "ping, ping," sound, it was Cinder, flicking the screen door with his claws. We called it the cat doorbell.

Cinder had a passion for green olives and celery leaves, and was even known to nibble on bits of raw carrots. Whoever heard of a vegetarian cat? He liked to sit on a chair at the kitchen table and watch us eat our meals. He never begged or tried to get anything off the table, but only wanted to be part of the family. There was one particular chair that he claimed as his own, and heaven help anyone who sat there. If an unsuspecting guest claimed the chair, we would have a very annoyed cat.

Cinder was an only cat until he was about twelve years old. When we got Smoky, guess whose nose was out of joint at this new young interloper who stole his thunder? Smoky got his moniker from his smoky grey fur, and being a kitten, wanted to play. Meanwhile, Cinder, being an older cat, was in retirement mode, and tolerated Smoky, but just barely.

When we get another cat, we are told we should continue the pattern, get an orange cat, and call it Flame.

Maria Harden
(c) 2003

Story ID:	385
Written by:	Maria Harden (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Musings, Essays and Such
Location:	Winnipeg MB Canada
Year:	2002
Person:	Cinder, a cat