Note to self: explain theory of "easing gently into the day" to cats.

Weekdays the alarm is set for 7 a.m. and the day begins, but on the weekends we leave the alarm off. After all, that's our free time and in theory we should be able to ease gently into our day.

Sadly, our cats did not get that "ease gently into our day" memo and right around 7 a.m. they start doing things that will wake us up. After all, the earlier we get up, the earlier they get their breakfast.

Their Rob The Humans of the Slightest Chance of Sleeping In Tactics are varied. Zubby from time to time heaves his lard fluffy butt on top of one of us, dropping his full weight down with a thump that registers on the Richter scale. Zoe perches on my chest and stares fixedly at my face, willing me to wake up.

Do you know how unnerving it is to open your eyes and have a small, black creature staring vulture-like at you?

If we somehow manage to ignore these manoeuvres, then the cats ratchet things up. Zubby will knock things off the bookcase by our bed. Zoe will start wailing, raising the decibels incrementally. This ever so grating noise is accompanied by waves of cat breath. For a while Level Two was enough to drive us from slumberland, but gradually both the spousal unit and I perfected the art of dragging a pillow over our faces while remaining asleep.

For a time the cats were stymied. For a time we actually knew what it was to sleep in.

There is one sound, however, that always wakes us up. That's when Zubby pins Zoe and begins gumming her. He doesn't actually hurt her so much as wound her pride by getting her all spitty, thereby proving that if he wanted to he could whup her butt.

Zoe reacts to this indignity with low pitched growls that transform into high pitched screaming, as if the house has just been invaded by hordes of marauders who are in the act of strapping her to a spit and roasting her alive.

There's nothing quite like waking up with a pillow over your face and your heart pounding because your subconscious has decided that your home has been invaded by Cat Roasting Marauders.

This morning when I sprang up and yelled at Zubby to stop it, he immediately freed Zoe and began scampering towards the kitchen with his tail in the air, the universal sign of kitty joy. Humans awake, breakfast treats on their way.

Blearily, I looked at the alarm clock. 7:52 a.m.

You want to know what's even worse? It won't be that long before Daylight Savings Time kicks in.

Believe me, you've never experienced skepticism until you've tried to explain Daylight Savings Time to a cat.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 101.77 miles (163.75 kilometers)
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers