My Cats Are Still On Daylight Savings Time

As I resign myself to being awake, there is still no sign of dawn at about 5 a.m. in the deep canyon where we live. My cats have let me know they think it is time for me to be up. They are used to getting their kibble, fresh water and fresh litter at this time of the morning – daylight savings time, that is. But now that we are back to regular time, we should all be still asleep. It is not happening. I love them all like members of my family, but sometimes I wish they would fade into the wallpaper for a while.

This morning they had run out of cat kibble, and their water was low and icky looking, so they decided I should get up and wait on them – pronto! Their not so subtle methods of getting what they want have been keeping me awake for an hour already. For such soft and graceful creatures with reputations for surefootedness, they are more a group of clumsy klutzes. They have been jumping around, knocking things over, leaping from the chair to my bed and WALKING ON ME! They have put an end to any hope I had of going back to sleep for that little extra snooze that feels so good in the morning. I lived by the clock, my alarm clock, for over forty years to get to this time of life when I can get up, or not, when I feel like it. I’ve got a framed award on my wall to prove my last 25 years of service. My cats are not impressed.

I have seven cats. That may sound like a lot, but when I was still a volunteer at a small county museum up in Campo, I once had as many as 22 rescued cats all at once. All but one or two lived outside where I couldn’t prevent coyotes from picking them off from time to time. Now, over a dozen years later, I’m down to seven, and my big black shaggy dog, Smokey, and Jane’s two big dogs, Fergie and Sasha, and I, protect our cats well. I’m not even going to tell you about Jane’s cats that also live in and out of this house. They only visit my bedroom in the daytime.

My cats are all fixed, and range in age from six to about 14 years old. All but one are healthy, but old age, and maybe diabetes, is causing Inky to lose weight. He probably won’t last another year. Five of my cats usually go outside for a few hours every day, but Inky and my one little female cat, Squeak, choose to stay inside all the time, It is up to them. But I round them all up and take a cat muster every evening before dark.

There are Buddy and Riley, Inky and Chipper, Squeak, Tiger Tommy, and Charley - a tuxedo cat with a black patch under his nose like a crooked Charley Chaplin mustache. The longhaired cats are: Buddy, Riley, (both yellow,) Chipper - (black and white), and Inky - (black) Inky is Chipper’s brother. The shorthaired cats are: Squeak, (all black except white whiskers), Tiger Tommy (grey tabby), and sleek and handsome Charley – (black and white tuxedo cat). All are fat and healthy except for Inky. I feed him extra canned food, while the others look on in disgust.

If I have a favorite, it is my beautiful Buddy, because he is tuned into my moods and shows me such a lot of love. Tiger Tommy is close behind. Before he joined us he must have made his way through miles of coyote infested chaparral. He spent a miserable and precarious life under my trailer, and in the big oak tree that spread above the trailer, for one whole cold, wet, snowy, and windy winter before I coaxed him to join the family. He was pitiful sitting outside on a windowsill in the wind and rain looking in at all the other cats and me, cozy and warm inside. He shows his gratitude still, several years later. He is so big and muscular, he can almost knock me off the bed rubbing his loving self against me.

So I forgive them for interrupting my dreams. I can make up the sleep I lost any time that I feel like it. Their love and funny antics among the cat pack more than make up any expense or loss of rest I may experience. They are worth it.