Life Short. Any Given Sunday.

Meow!

For some reason, known only to himself, Ziggy wants me out of bed (again).

He’s already been fed, but there he is, sitting on my chest, gently tapping my face with his paw, making his point very clear.

That’s the feed me signal. Again? No way. True I’d given him a tablespoon less than usual, earlier.

But how does he know that? Does he have a scale in his tummy Doubtful. Scales are verboten in my home.

So with a 10 pound ... I'm not really sure what he weighs, but he’s definitely heavy.…I get up.

I have to laugh, I’m being ruled by a cat! 
But I’m a good sport, I’ve lived with cats for decades.

Fast forward to later, when I’m sitting at the computer. I have no idea where Ziggy is, or why he wanted me up, but I now have Marley to the left of me, on the desk, watching my fingers, and obviously trying to learn how to type.

Sometimes she sits on the keys, as if she can absorb typing by direct contact. Given how often she does this, she should be a whizz.
Now Marley gives up on her typing lesson, and moves to the window, where she can spy on anyone walking by, and occasionally get into attack position.

Such is life today at Chez Bernard.