Morning

 

I awoke before the morning alarm, puzzled and irritated at the sound vibrating above the volume of the white noise device.  What engine is that? A truck? How big?  Maybe, it is that car you heard the other day.  The one that ground and rattled before revving the engine before mercifully exiting the road.  But it sounds different.  It is not garbage day. How long has it been idling there? Just shut your eyes and focus on the white noise. It is yet early.  You don’t have to respond.  This neighborhood used to be so quiet. Keep your eyes shut. Relax.

The sound of claws yanks the carpet beneath the bedroom door. She is signaling, like it or not, the day is upon me. I am not yet ready to begin. She will persist until I get up and open the door. She has trained me. How did I allow that to happen? I know she won’t stop now. 

I wipe the residue of sleep from my eyes, roll to my side, place my feet on the carpeted floor, stand and casually walk to open the door. She slinks through the opening, softly brushing past me. I resume my previous repose on the mattress while she ascends the quilt laying over me. Wide-eyed, but silent, she is careful not to disturb my sleeping husband beside us. I pretend to sleep but she approaches already aware that I will not be successful. A quiet purr. A slow rub against my exposed fingers. I gently scratch her near her arching tail and she licks the air. She pauses momentarily to smooth her feathery fluff to submission. I closed my eyes. She rubs my fingertips reminding me that the time for sleep has passed. I feign ignorance.  She strategically navigates the books stacked top of my nightstand and sits facing me.  Eyes on me, her paw slips to the edge of the book cover and pulls upward creating a gentle pop sound. I glare at her.  She knows I won’t ignore her now. I reach to stop her as her paw grazes my fingers with a slightly exposed claw. We play a gentle of fingers and claws before she slips to the floor, flips her tail and heads to the door. I rise and follow, pausing to collect a bundle of dirty laundry. 

Entering the hallway, I hear the anxious stirrings of Cooper downstairs in the kennel. I hurry downstairs to the laundry room, deposit the bundle into the washing tub, adjust the settings, add the soap and press start.  Cooper lets out sharp anxious barks encouraging me to hurry and release him outdoors where he can finally relieve himself. Unlike the typical encounter at the sliding glass door, he does not hesitate to pass through onto the patio leading to the lawn on the other side. I close the door and turn to greet a sleepy black puff ball yawning. I cave.  The day has begun.