Brain's all blurry from a mediocre night's sleep. I get up around 5:30am every morning. Partly because I want to, but mostly because the cats insist on it.
Scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch. It's a sound that can't be ignored or avoided. It cuts through everything. The cats will not be denied their breakfast!
I get up. Brain is foggy and would rather be at rest than awake at this point. MEOW! Skitter skitter. The dog's nails are impossible to cut, so he adds this particular tone to the din by dancing on the laminate flooring.
Every cat host knows this dance. You're trying to get to the cats' bowls. You're groggy. You fumble for the lights. REOWR! You've stepped on a cat's tail. Thump. You bump into one of them as they hover at your feet. They're desperate for food because they've never been fed before and they love you, they try to help by impeding your ability to actually get to their bowls to fill with this elusive substance known as food. My addition to this movement piece is a bewildering series of small steps, both vertical and lateral to avoid stepping on the cats who insist that you step on them. but please don't do that. It's a very abstract, modern dance piece.
I make my way to the kitchen where we store the dog and cats' bowls. Skitter skitter. The dog is doing his "I'm really hungry but need to pee and take a shit dance". I put down the food dishes.
MEOW! MEOW! MEOW! The cats protest! FAVORITISM!
I open the sliding glass door to the back yard, being careful to keep the cats inside because in our house, there is no such thing as an "Outdoor Shawn" or an "Outdoor Gus". This is as much for their safety as it is to prevent the extinction of every bird in the greater Burien area. Gus is part velociraptor. His claws are terrifying!
The dog does his business... eventually. He gets so excited by being outdoors that he'll become so fascinated with and distracted by a pine cone that he forgets he needs to empty his bladder and bowels. Then comes the struggle to simply get him back in the house. He'll sit at the far end of the yard, crouched and poised for action.
MORE PINE CONE THROWING! Since he's basically the canine equivalent Robin Williams' brain stuffed inside of Glenn Danzig's body, it's very difficult to get him to come back inside at times. I have to ignore him, so I go back inside to wait for him to come back. Jack Russell behavior is tough to navigate at 5:33am.
I put the kettle on to begin my morning pour over coffee ritual. I grab a #4 unbleached coffee filter, fit it into the cone. I pour a tiny bit of the warming water into the cone, swirl it around. Empty it. I dump the ground coffee beans into the filter. Shake the cone to level it. Press a finger in the center of the grounds to create a divot. Now the seemingly eternal wait for the water to boil begins. (It should be ready in about 3 minutes)
Eventually Tony is at the back door, tail wagging, waiting to come in. I open the sliding glass door just enough to let his shoulders through because there are no "Outdoor Shawns or Guses". Grab the four food dishes. Head to the guest room where the dog and cat food resides. Repeat the dance. Open the door. Anywhere from one to three cats flood into the room and sometimes one dog who then jumps on the bed and gets crazy. I close the door quickly because sound travels very strangely in our house and I don't want to wake Kasia.
Arrange the bowls on top of the freezer and one by one, fill the bowls with food, just a little bit less for Shawn because she's become fairly rolly polly in appearance. Re-seal the food containers! Oh god! Seal the food containers to avoid midnight horrors!
Repeat the dance to the living room. MEOW!
Shawn eats on top of the cat tree in the living room. Pete eats in the bathroom. MEOW! Gus eats in my office. We do this because if we didn't, our littlest cat would bully her way into eating the other cats' food! Shawn can be quite the bully when it comes to food.
The cats are finally quiet except for Shawn who eats food like she's Lemmy performing Ace of Spades. Loud.
Now the dog. He's so patient compared to his feline buddies. Go to the kitchen unimpeded by cats trying to break my neck. The water has boiled. Pour some water over the coffee grounds so that I have some caffeine soon. Open the refrigerator. Grab the can of wet food. Grab a fork. Add some wet to the dry and mix... trying not to be loud because Kasia is still asleep.
It's not easy.
Drop the fork in the dish washer. The dog can't take his eyes off of me. The tail is decidedly wagging the dog at this point.
Place the dog's bowl on the kitchen floor. Sniff sniff. Tony walks away.
DAMMIT! I can smell the coffee now. It's the only thing in the world I want right now. However, this dog's insane metabolism necessitates me getting calories into his body before I can have my life sustaining hot coffee bean juice.
I grab a chunk of bread or other snack. Give it to Tony. He takes it with a gentleness that is surprising given his Pit body shape and generally insane energy level.
Snarf!
Repeat, but closer to the bowl this time. Sometimes Tony forgets that he actually really likes his morning meal, so I have to bribe him with an amuse bouche to get him to eat his entree.
MEOW MEOWMEOW MEOW MEOWMEOWMEOW!
Fuck! Shawn's done eating and lets the world know. She throws her pear shaped body the five feet to the floor from the top of the cat tree with a loud THUMP! SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Kasia's trying to sleep!
I FINALLY pour myself a cup of coffee. Most likely into one of my bajillion filmmaking related mugs. Tony's still not eating. Shawn tromps her way over and investigates the dog's bowl. Tony's head snaps to the bowl and the little cat that is EATING HIS FOOD! He jams his head in the bowl and starts eating his food in an attempt more to deny Shawn any of his food than it is an effort to feed himself. I watch carefully to make sure this new to our home dog doesn't snap at Shawn.
Scritcha scritcha scritch. Pete's done eating, or has become bored with his food and wants the obviously more interesting food in the kitchen. I tip toe over to the bathroom and open the door, pushing Pete back as I look to see if he's eaten his food. If he has, he's free to leave. If not, I gently push him back into the bathroom to finish his meal. Gus is gleefully chomping away in the office. Funny that the largest, most active of the three cats is the slowest eater. I'm grateful though as his thoughtful eating lessens the chaos in the kitchen and living room that is preventing me from drinking my coffee.
Tony and Shawn settle into a peaceful food sharing agreement. Pete finally finishes his food and I let him out. He rushes to the kitchen, frustrated that he missed out on the obviously gourmet meal he was denied.
I return to the office. Open the door. Gus comes galloping out, his bowl empty.
It's now about 5:42am. Everyone has eaten. I can sit down, watch the morning news, and enjoy my coffee.
The neighbor's dog barks. Then Tony....
WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!
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