Saturday Morning With Harmony the Cat

Cat: 1. walking ego with an attitude problem; 2. alien that took over Earth millennia ago (from “Definitions You Won’t Find in any Webster’s New World Dictionary,” http://www.opusforfour.com/definitions.html )

Before I go any further, I want to emphasize that I love my cat.  In her weird way, she loves me, too.  In other words, we’re bonded ‘til death do us part.  We’re stuck with … er, to each other.

I love to poke fun of my cat here.  I can get away with it because she can’t read.  I don’t know how many English words she even understands because she’s too smart to let on.

Anyway, picture this.  It’s Saturday morning, the only day of the week when I can sleep late, and I am lying in bed enjoying the soft warmth of the pillows and blankets.  I feel a poke on my arm.  I turn around and see two green eyes staring at me.  “Hello, Harmony,” I say.  I close my eyes, and feel something small and wet on my cheek.  I open one eye, look into the face containing the wet nose and say, “It’s too early for breakfast.  Mommy wants to sleep.”

At this point, Harmony jumps off the bed.  Thirty seconds later, she jumps back onto the bed and uses it as a springboard to jump on the windowsill, where she burrows through a hole in the closed blinds[1] in order to be able to see outside.  She then alternates between looking out the window and staring at me, attempting to shoot a psychic beam into my brain.  She jumps off the ledge, then jumps back up again and repeats the process.  I ignore her and go back to sleep.

I awaken about an hour later to find a hairy lump next to me, under my armpit.  Harmony has her motor going, and she paws at me, wanting to be petted.  She figures if she can’t get me out of bed any other way she’ll try buttering me up.  I’m a real sucker for kitty cuddles and purrs, so I pet her, accompanied by the obligatory baby talk.[2] Harmony turns to give her fur a cat spit bath.  My eyelids start to close again.  She paws at my face to get my attention.  I pet her again.  Eventually, she gets bored with all the mushy stuff, gets up, jumps off the bed and lets me sleep until I am ready to get up.

When I start to get up, Harmony hears me and comes back into the bedroom.  She has a little practical joke that she plays on me every morning.  I wait for her to do it because it’s as inevitable as a Mr. Softee truck on a New York summer day.  When I lean over or start to get up, she jumps up at me from a hiding place right next to the bed, aims a very light play swat at my face and jumps off again.

I guess that’s hilariously funny to a cat.

So I get up out of bed, slide my feet into my house sandals, and say, “Let’s go get your breakfast.”  Those are the words Harmony has been waiting to hear all morning, and she leads the way into the kitchen.

Well, not exactly the kitchen.  My bathroom is located right off the kitchen, and Harmony is in the habit of racing me there, plopping down and waiting for me to bribe her to get out and leave the bathroom to me.  Of course, she always does this first thing in the morning, and this morning is no exception.

I have two ways of getting Harmony out of the bathroom:  (1) I bribe her with her favorite kibbles; or (2) I sing a very loud operatic high note.  This morning I don’t feel like bribing her with food, since she is about to be fed anyway, so I go for the high note option.  She charges out of the bathroom like a torpedo and I quickly close the door.

When I come out of the bathroom, she is waiting for me in the kitchen.  I open the cupboard door, ask her what she wants this morning (as if she’ll actually answer me), and pick out a 3-ounce can of Science Diet salmon cat food.  I wash out her food dish and rinse out her water dish, put the food and water in their proper receptacles and put it on the floor.  After all the previous hullabaloo, Harmony lies on the kitchen floor for at least two minutes before she slowly ambles over to the food dish, takes four or five bites and leaves the rest for later.

There are some things we will never understand.  One of these is the brain of a cat.


[1] My little imp kitty created that hole.  Never mind.  It’s a boring story anyway.

[2] Yes, I’m one of those.  Don’t ask.

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2 thoughts on “Saturday Morning With Harmony the Cat”

  1. Hah! I have a classical singer friend who comes to New York about once a month for a lesson and usually stays about a week with me. She loves Harmony, too. In fact, she helped me pick her out at the ASPCA. Anyway, I was giving my friend an impromptu demonstration once, and we ended up singing at each other. Harmony came into the living room from the kitchen, gave us a big-eyed “What the hell is THAT” look, took off for the bedroom and hid under the bed. She didn’t come out for a while. We really scared the poor kitty!

  2. I would think that if you sing with your operatic voice, your cat would do whatever you want. That is a talent that just mesmerizes most everyone! And, your cat does have control issues. I know a good pet shrink. 🙂

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