Kit Kat

The cats were adamant this morning that I not oversleep. Their survival instinct, which in the domesticated variety translates to maintaining an appropriate level of food in their dish, was operating in top form. My feeble argument that this was a day for sleeping in, was ignored. Cats do not recognize holidays. They only recognize empty food dishes.

Their method of getting my attention was to play hide-and-seek at the bedroom door. The feline version of this game requires that one cat be on each side of the door; players attempt to discover the "hidden" location of the other players by scratching huge gaping holes in the carpet in front of their side of the door until the owner of the house (the one who will inevitably pay for new flooring) gets out of bed in a pathetic attempt to grab the players and kick them into the middle of next week. The winner is the one who manages to trip the owner of the house by rubbing against his legs as he is filling the food dish.

For a bonus prize, one of the players can opt to wait until the owner has gone back to bed, and then throw up all over the downstairs carpet. Extra points are awarded for extending the duration of the pre-barf retching so that the owner thinks he can get all the way downstairs and put the cat outside before the actual spillage occurs, and then running away so that the mess is spread through several rooms.