*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*

The alarm goes off. 

Shit. 

It's 3:45 A.M.  It feels like I went to bed only 20 minutes ago. I usually go to bed around 7:30 in the evening.  8:00 at the latest.  I have to, in order to get up at 3:45. 

I fall out of bed and walk, unsteadily, over to the dresser where the clock is.  I have to put it over there, forcing me to get up to turn it off.  If I had it right by the bed, I'd roll over and punch it without ever waking up.  I stand by the dresser for a second, trying to get my bearings. 

No, I'm not dreaming. 

Yes, I'm alive. 

Yes, it's 3:45 A.M. 

Yes, I have to go to work. 

Shit.

I think about the old donut commercial (Dunkin' Donuts?) with the old guy walking around his house in the early morning, «Gotta go make the donuts!  Gotta go make the donuts!»

I hear the kitty at the bedroom door, «Meow.»  Fred and Dan are, of course, asleep. Anyone with any sense at all is asleep.  Damned cat isn't.  He's heard the alarm.  «Meow.» 

I'm NOT a morning person.  I'm a night owl.  Always have been.  I come alive after 10:00 P.M.  I cannot talk in the morning, and I don't want people to talk to me.  Not even a cat.

«Meow.»

He wants breakfast.  I stumble out of the bedroom, down the hall, through the living room, through the dining room, into the kitchen.  Cat is winding around between my legs.  He gets kicked across the floor a couple of times, but is not deterred.  He continues to wind between my legs, rubbing in a way that is supposed to butter me up, I guess.

«I love you.  Please give me breakfast.  I love you SO much!  PLEASE give me breakfast!»  (I speak fluent kitty so I know what these little 'meows' mean.)

I see the little red light on the coffee pot.  Thank God I remembered to turn the timer on.  Thank you, Juan Valdez and Mrs. Olsen.  In a few minutes I'll have a Dark Columbian, Mountain Grown heartbeat.  (It's the RICHEST kind!)

«Meow.  I SAID MEOW!  I love you!  Please, please give me some breakfast!»

«Jesus H. Christ, cat!  Fine.  Here's your damned food.»  I open the fridge and get a can of Grilled Salmon Surprise and spoon a glob onto his saucer.

«About damned time!»

«Don't push it, you furry little beast.»

«Mmmmm.   This is good!  Don't you have to go to work or something?  Why are you standing around here?  LEAVE already!»

I shower and brush my teeth.  I open the bathroom door and there's the kitty.

«Meow.»

«In your dreams, cat.  You've had breakfast.  Besides, Fred will give you another spoonful when he gets up.  Then, in a couple of hours, Dan will get up and give you another spoonful.  You could just have a few bites of the dry stuff, you know.»

«I'd starve if I had to eat that all the time.  It's nasty.  Are you going to make a tuna casserole for dinner tonight?»

«Starve?  Riiiight.  You're about 12 pounds overweight as it is.  I don't think you'll be starving anytime soon.  No…I'm thinking we'll have sloppy joes tonight.»

«Yuck.  You better go to work.  You're gonna be late.»

«What the hell do you care if I'm late or not?»

«I don't.  I just want you out of here.  It's time for my morning nap.»

«See you in 12 hours or so.  Stay out of the wine while I'm gone.»

«Okay!»  *Dear God, humans are dumb.*

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