The other day, I adopted a housecat.  I have only had a housecat once in my adult life…for about a month (he was pretty much dumped in my lap and loved to dump on my bath rugs, so I found him another home).  Anyway, we found ‘Garfield’ on Craigslist.  Strangely, he was only about 3 minutes from our house. 

Garfield is the funniest-looking cat I have ever laid eyes upon.  He is an Exotic Shorthair, which is basically a Persian with shorter hair and a perfectly flat face.  I mean, really flat.  Here is is, performing ‘cat yoga’:

Not only does he look funny, his personality is hilarious. 

If Garfield is hungry, he meows.  If Garfield is thirsty, he meows.  If the litterbox is not properly cleaned, he meows.  And, if you are not graciously lavishing him with attention, he meows.  No doubt about it, this is a cat who knows what he wants in life.

So, the other day, I was attempting to sleep in on a Saturday.  At 6:45am, the ‘cat alarm’ has apparently been activated and I wake up to SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF right in my face and crack open my eyes, and Garfield is about 1/2″ from my nose.  “Garfield! Go find something else to do!”  I flip on my stomach and cover my head with a pillow.  Then comes: PUUUUUURRRRRPUUUUURRRRRPUUUUUURRRRR from deep in his little cat chest, so loud that it is now vibrating the coils in my bed and the noise penetrates my skull.  “GARFIELD, PLEASE!” Silence.  Then comes a large, furry critter jumping in the very center of my back, making small circles.  “Meow?  Meow? (DON’T YOU KNOW I’M HUNGRY, YOU STUPID HUMAN!)”  I try to ignore the fact that a huge ball of fur is making figure 8’s on my backside.  Silence.  Suddenly, I feel one of the straps on my pajama top being chewed.  Chomp, chomp, ‘meooooow’, ‘meooooow’.  I give up.  I am now slave to the cat, and give him his kibble. 

No better alarm than a hungry cat.