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The collected opinions of an august and aristocratic personage who, despite her body having succumbed to the ravages of time, yet retains the keen intellect, mordant wit and utter want of tact for which she was so universally lauded in her younger days. Being of a generation unequal to the mysterious demands of the computing device, Lady Bracknell relies on the good offices of her Editor for assistance with the technological aspects of her journal.

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Location: Bracknell Towers

Friday, May 18, 2007

Bertie's guide to getting one's human up in the morning

When a young cat has been tremendously well-behaved; has slept quietly in his squidgy doughnut bed all night; and has generously refrained from forcing Caspar out of her squidgy doughnut bed despite his suspicions that it might be even more comfortable than his own*, then it seems only reasonable to expect his human to be up and about by 7 in the morning.

However, despite the obvious attractions of being up by 7 at the latest, humans are sometimes still asleep as late as 8. Clearly, this is a dreadful error on their part. They will therefore almost certainly be touchingly grateful for any assistance which a personable young chap might offer.

They will be more deeply asleep at some times than others. This is why one should follow the guide in the order in which it is set down. The later stages will only be required if your human is behaving in a particularly recalcitrant manner.

#1. Fish items of rubbish out of the bedroom wastepaper bin with your dear little paws, and proceed to bat them around the floor. This is so unbearably cute that your human will almost certainly want to wake up and watch. Should the quieter items of rubbish not produce the desired effect, try to find one of those little foil trays in which your human's medication is provided. This allows you to be both cute and noisy.

#2. Put the wind up Caspar so that she runs over the top of the bed and, therefore, over the chest of your sleeping human. (NB it would appear that female cats are both lighter and fleeter of paw than us chaps. We only want to wake the human, not crush her ribs with our superior weight and musculature. Breakfast will undoubtedly be seriously delayed if the human has to call for an ambulance.)

#3. Sharpen your claws on the exposed part of the base of the bed while uttering piteous cries such as might emanate from the mouth of a cat, weak with hunger, who has not eaten for several days. (Humans have notoriously bad memories, and can easily be persuaded that they absent-mindedly forgot to feed you at all yesterday.)

#4. If all else fails, lick your human's toes. This will make her laugh. At which point she will be forced to admit that she is, in fact, awake.

Having used the last sixty minutes to work up a healthy appetite, you can now streak into the kitchen ahead of your more ponderous human and adopt your most winning posture in the vicinity of your food bowls.

(In a multi-human household, it may be possible to repeat this entire process several times before one is caught out.)

You may wish to add variations of your own to this guide, depending on the layout of your own house and the behaviour of your own particular human. For example, Bertie's pen-pal, Oscar, favours head-butting his human on those days when he inexplicably forgets to set his alarm clock.

Whatever your chosen method, however, it is important to remember that your human would genuinely prefer to be up early, and that you are therefore doing him or her a favour.

*They don't have a specific bed each. She sleeps in whichever one he isn't currently in. Until he wakes up and catches sight of her. At which point the bed she's in usually becomes the most desirable residence in the world, and he bounces up and down on her head until she capitulates. (Editor's note)


Blogger marmiteboy said...

Young Master Twiglet is a master of reviving his sleeping owner. He will crawl under the duvet and stick his claws into his unsuspecting owners feet and legs. If this fails he will then crawl INSIDE the duvet making sure that only he duvet cover is between his claws and owners skin. This adds to the effect of making puddings on his owners legs and smarts quite a bit.

After he has been removed, quite roughly from inside teh duvet he will then climb onto the owners bedside cabinet and knock all the items on it onto the floor. Pill boxes, radio, torch book and glasses don't stand a chance. Finally if al else fails he will drink out of the glass of water placed there in case his owner becomes thirsty in the night. At this stage the owner will give up and rise and feed him.

This never happens after 5:30 in the morning. Young Master Twiglet, as a result, has been banished from sleeping with his owner lest he can actauly get some sleep.

12:20 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Having lost my first comment, due to stupidly looking up a word to make sure it was what I intended, you'll have to excuse the lack of the correct form. Has Her Ladyship been located by Bertie or Caspar yet? How is her health?
Angie xx

4:06 pm  
Blogger Gorilla Bananas said...

Restless creatures, cats. We generally avoid them in my part of the world. Has Her Ladyship every considered a pet snake?

8:09 am  
Blogger Lily said...

Dogs too have been to wake-up-human classes. Mine starts with piteous cries and scraping of the bedroom door. Once in, she tap dances on the floorboards around the bed and if that fails, jumps up and starts an assault that begins with licks and nudges and ends with sitting across my neck and attempting to irrigate my nostrils with her tongue. That usually works.

9:31 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Buster's Guide to Waking Humans

1. Swing on bedroom door handle until it clicks down and unlatches.
2. Swing against door to push it open.
3. Leap on top of wardrobe (Burmese cats are good at mountaineering).
4. Hurl oneself off wardrobe into centre of human torso (makes a nice soft landing).
5. Await human cries of delighted gratitude.

4:37 pm  
Blogger Lady Bracknell said...

I'm sure I can't be the only one who would like to know why Marmite feels the need to keep a torch on his bedside cabinet...


Lady Bracknell vacated the premises in response, we believe, to the Editor's loss of mental acuity resulting from consumption of Tramadol. We continue to hope that she will return.

Mr Bananas,

I was at one point really quite keen on the idea of keeping a snake as a pet. Right up until the moment I realised that doing so would involve keeping baby mice in my freezer.

7:12 pm  
Blogger BloggingMone said...

i used to have a human guide to waking a dog. My dog had to get up at 6:30 in the morning, because he used to accompany me to the office. He usually was in a lousy mood. He loved weekends.

4:45 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Such a lovely post from a loving kitty. Lady Bracknell must adore her feline friends. I generally prefer hound dogs, as they enjoy retiring, belly up on the couch to an early cold morning.

4:20 am  

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