Tale of the Feral Cats: Interlude

We long discovered that the cats do not like being locked out of a room that we are in. Just on one recent Sunday morning – one of the two days I don’t have to be up at 3:30 am for work – Midnight came charging in meowing at 3:15 for breakfast time. The first instinct is to try and ignore him and hope he gives up and settles down out in the living room. Sometimes it works. Other times, he gets quite insistent and will repeat the routine every couple of minutes until he gets his way. Or he starts rough housing with Tux or Tiger, knowing one of us will get up then. This was one of those mornings where he was just insistent, and I knew he wasn't going to let up.

So I staggered out of bed, filled a bowl with kibble on the kitchen counter (so Hershey can’t get to it), and promptly went back to bed – closing the bed room door for good measure. That seemed to satisfy him so I took a deep breath and cleared my mind, attempting to lull myself back to sleep. Not twenty minutes later, he went right back to his very loud meow and scratching at the door. Of course Tiger and Tux had to join in on the fun as well. They both get separation anxiety when they get locked in or out of a room and can’t sit on or near one of us. So for the next three hours they took turns pawing, scratching, and meowing outside the bedroom door. It got to the point where we could tell each one apart simply by how they scratched at the door and pawed at the knob.

So, giving up on sleep, Shannon got up and opened the door. All I could see from my side of the bed, from over the covers, was four tails in question mark form as they all rushed in and took up their usual vantage points in the room. Tux on a pile of towels on our dresser; Midnight on the headboard; Tiger plopped down on the bed next to me; and Hershey sat herself on the heating vent. So it became just another typical Sunday morning with the feral cats.