The Cat Who Cried Hairball

If you asked Charlene, she would tell you that we don't get up early enough.  Each morning, thirty minutes to an hour before our alarm is set to go off, she tries to wake us, so she can be served her breakfast. She has many tricks, but we're getting pretty good at ignoring them all. Wylla helps wake us too, but a five-pound cat walking across your head is even easier to ignore than a twelve-pound cat doing the same.

The one thing guaranteed to get us out of bed, even while in the deepest of sleeps,  is the sound of a vomiting cat. Because of Wylla's condition,  we're quite used to waking to this noise.

We hop out of bed, jump into action, grab a towel, and hope to catch everything that comes up before it hits the carpet. We're pretty good at this, and if you were to witness this scene, I think you would be impressed by the agility of these sleepy people.   

 Yesterday,  shortly before the alarm began ringing,  I awoke to the sounds of a heaving cat.  I jumped to action thinking it was Wylla, but discovered her curled up at the foot of the bed. Bean was at the other end of the room, a few feet away from her food supply. There were no puddles to clean up or hairballs to be found.   

I didn't think much of it, I just assumed it was a unsuccessful attempt at releasing a hairball, and because it was almost time to get up anyway, I started my day. The first point of order, of course, feeding the cats.  

But then it happened again this morning.

Fifteen minutes before the alarm went off,  I heard a heaving cat in the distance, and went racing for a towel.  Wylla was curled up and sound asleep.  Charlene was at the other end of the room again, a few feet away from her covered food bowl,  not a hairball in sight.  She had a hopeful look on her face that said "breakfast time??!!!"

Then it dawned on me, Charlene was fake vomiting.

Yes, she has figured out that the sound of a barfing cat is a guarantee to get us out of bed. And getting us out of bed, means breakfast.  

I swear,  I won't be falling for this one tomorrow morning.  I'm on to you, Bean, you clever, clever, naughty girl.