cats + morning = not asleep

For whatever reason, the idea that I am going to bury myself in a warm cocoon of blankets is unacceptable to either cat. Unless I am awake at, say 7:00am, the cats are displeased . . . which is to say that they are displeased almost every morning.

Learned Claw comes over with a "prrrOW" that's somehow nasal in a way I've never heard a cat be nasal before. And then he'll leap up on the bed (he sort of scrambles a bit with his back legs because of the extra fluff-weight) and nudge me with his head and look at me with these big, luminously sad greeny-yellow eyes. Like he's dying. Manipulator.

Erik is much more straightforward. He'll chirp "Mraow!" and then trot over to the bed. If I don't immediately start petting him, he'll look over to the bedside table to see what he can push off of it that will make the most noise and, preferably, break. This morning, it was two--not one but TWO--books that sounded like a gunshot. I leapt about 2 feet in the air out of a dead sleep. Sometimes I want to murder that damn cat.