January 24, 1990
Dear Everyone:
I have a new Alarm Clock.
Not that there is anything wrong with all my other
alarm clocks. They all work
fine. The clock in the
furnace tells it to go on a few minutes before 4:00 so that the place is
warm when I get up in the morning (I over-ride this on weekends when I
can sleep until a decent hour).
The timer turns the light in my bedroom on a few
minutes before the clock radio goes off.
This is an attempt to fool my brain into thinking it’s morning
when it’s actually the middle of the night.
Morning is when the sun comes up.
On regular weekdays, this is about 7:20, when I’ve already been
at work for half an hour.
The radio turns itself on at 4:00 and I hit the
snooze button until about 4:30 when I really,
really have to get up or I’ll
be late and miss my van.
All this is as it should be.
All of this goes by the board as far as the new Alarm Clock is
concerned.
The new Alarm Clock is furry, has four feet and a
bushy tail, and is set to go off at about 3:00.
The new Alarm Clock does not seem to have a snooze button.
I keep hitting it on the head, trying to find the snooze button;
but, so far, I haven’t located it.
The new Alarm Clock doesn’t buzz or chirp or play loud music.
It purrs sweetly and bumps its head against my shoulder and says:
“Rrrrr!”
If I roll over, the Alarm Clock simply walks up
over me and bumps the other side.
Or sits on my stomach and says:
“Rrrrr… now!”
If that doesn’t work, the Alarm Clock tries scratching the
furniture.
The only thing that will shut the Alarm Clock off is to struggle out of bed, stumble into the kitchen and get a can of something called “Prescription Feline Maintenance” out of the refrigerator. Put a forkful on a paper plate and put it on the floor.
The Alarm Clock, you see, is hungry.
Hungry enough to eat something called “Prescription Feline
Maintenance” at 3:00 in the morning.
Once she’s eaten, she’s not hungry anymore.
Now she wants to play.
Tag is a good game.
I don’t want to play tag.
I’ve gone back to bed in the hopes of getting a few moments of
sleep before the lights/radio/snooze button medley begins.
The Alarm Clock decides that if tag is out, “pounce” will do.
The Alarm Clock likes to pounce on the bed because the down
comforter goes “poof” under her and this is fun.
This is not necessarily fun for the person who is
trying to sleep under the
down comforter that goes “poof” when you pounce on it.
But, by this time, I probably have to get up and get dressed
anyway. By the time I’m
ready to go to work (5:45-ish), the Alarm Clock has worn herself out and is
having a nap attack.
While I’m gone, the Alarm Clock amuses herself by
sleeping on top of the cable converter box on the TV.
By placing her feet this way and that, she can turn the converter
box on and change the channels.
This box is connected to computer at the cable company;
the computer randomly checks boxes to see if they’re on and to
what channels they are tuned.
The people at the cable company must wonder what kind of person
stays home all day, watching channels like 47 and 84 when there
aren’t any channels like 47
and 84.
When I get home, the Alarm Clock greets me with
enthusiasm and eats some more of the “Prescription Feline Maintenance”
gook. (During the day, she
nibbles at some sort of nuggets made by the same people who make the
gook.) If I have a chance to
ride my bike (7590 miles, still in China), she complains because she’s
not having any fun. Once
I’ve had my bath and get settled down for the evening, the fun starts.
This is a curious thing, because the Alarm Clock is
definitely not a lap cat.
If you pick her up to pet her, or to put her on your lap, she
will wait politely for about 15 seconds then she’ll start squirming to
be let down, now please!
But if you just want to watch TV, or read a book, the Alarm Clock
wants your lap.
Ever notice how cats can pretend that you’re not
there just by not looking at you?
She hops up onto the sofa and just sort of casually steps onto my
lap like, if she can’t see me, I can’t see her, right?
Then she turns around a few times, giving her maximum opportunity
to stick her bushy tail in my face, before finding just the right
position to start the acupuncture session.
This is if I’m watching TV.
If I’m trying to read, that’s even better because books have hard
edges and corners which God obviously designed for the purpose of
rubbing chins and ears against.
Which means that, if I really do want to read, I have to scrub
her ears in sheer self-defense.
Heaven help me if I stop long enough to turn a page.
Aren’t cats wonderful?
Don’t you wish you had
one?
Act now and I’ll express mail you one, compete with litter box and
the spaghetti fork that “Jeannie” bought to use as a strainer.
I’ll even throw in a few cans of gook.
Certainly, I wouldn’t want any of it.
If there are no takers, I guess I’ll just wait
until “Jeannie” returns from Scotland next Monday.
In the meantime, I’m going to try to stuff the Alarm Clock so
that she oversleeps until (hopefully) 4:00-ish.
Especially since I have a 3-day weekend coming up.
I’ve taken next Monday as a vacation day to make it easier to go
pick “Jeannie” up at the airport.
And because I like to sleep late on Mondays.
Love, as always,
Pete
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