I used to wake up every morning to the typically obnoxious sound of a cell phone alarm.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeep.
These days I , instead, greet the day with the new and equally obnoxious sound of a hungry little white, brown and gray drama queen by the name of Mo.
Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. MEEOOOOOW.
The sounds are slightly different, but similar in their urgency. One you can turn off…one you most certainly cannot.
Early on, we had an understanding with Mo – every morning, I would wake up for my run around 5:15 and feed her. She would hear my alarm and, knowing that her breakfast would quickly follow, excitedly (yet quietly) met me in the kitchen. It was nice to wake up to a loving little individual, trotting around in anticipation.
After a few months of this cuteness, she must have noticed that I sometimes hit the snooze button and, in order to ensure that I woke up to the alarm the FIRST time, began running into the bedroom and jumping on the bed the minute the beeping began. Still cute.
After a few more months (apparently noticing that I had learned to ignore her presence) she decided to add the meow to her routine… at first a faint “Ummm, excuse me, Faith, but would you mind getting up and feeding me?” developing slowly into a full-powered “Seriously, I’m not kidding – get out of bed and feed me – Faith…Dave….anybody….hello?.”.
For a short period of time she actually started meowing in anticipation of the alarm (by approximately 5 minutes) – it would appear that was just a phase (thank goodness).
It’s not fun to greet the day to the intense and constant stare of a hungry cat but the morning is nothing compared to her afternoon feeding time. On the days that Dave is working from home, she starts bugging him around 4 pm. This involves meowing, yes, but it also involves pretending to try to eat inedible things: plants, paper, whatever happens to be on the floor – “Look at me, Dave, I’m SOOO hungry that I’m about to eat your computer cord…you’ll feel really bad when I eat this plastic plant…it’s ok, take your time, I’ll just be over here, eating these packing peanuts.
Let me emphasize “pretending to try to eat” because we have never had any evidence that she actually does eat any of the objects - and we both watch carefully.
Then are the days that Dave is traveling and she is forced to wait until I get home from work. As bad as I’m sure she is at 4, something happens to her in the two hours between 4 and 6 pm – a transformation from cord-eating, yes, but still cute Mo into a crazy-eyed little monster driven to the very brink of insanity by the need to eat. I can hear her meowing impatiently the minute I exit the elevator and as I walk down the hallway of the apartment building (which is probably lovely for the neighbors). When I open the door, I find her walking in circles, meowing to herself - the translation likely being something along the lines of: “bad, bad owner….starving cat…going to collapse…can’t take it much longer.…can barely stand up…so…hungry”)
Now, before anyone accuses us of being neglectful owners or making light of a hungry cat, let me assure you that Mo is more than adequately fed. In fact, in the first 6 months she lived with us, she gained 2 lbs and 2 lbs is not insignificant when you only started out at 11.
She is not, I repeat, she is not starving and certainly does not need to look to computer cords or plastic plants or packing material for nourishment – she is simply a drama queen and I told her that every night as I fed her until…
I had a doctor’s appointment not all that long ago.
I hate doctor’s appointments. There’s nothing wrong with going to see the doctor. In fact, being a self-diagnosed hypochondriac (is it ironic to describe yourself as a "self-diagnosed hypochandriac"...or is it just accurate?), I actually really like seeing the doctor because I get to ask LOTS of questions about conditions that I’m sure I have. What I hate is having to spend my lunch hour doing something other than, well, other than eating my lunch.
I’m a creature of habit - I eat my lunch at noon every day, at my desk, and it always consists of a diet coke, a banana, wheat thins and fig newtons (I know you don’t approve mom – sorry J). I have eaten this lunch, at this time, and in this location 5 days a week, for the past 5 years. I think people at work might think that I’m not able to afford a real lunch, but that isn’t the case. No, in truth I really, really like wheat thins, fig newtons, bananas and diet coke and I get really hungry at exactly noon every day.
This lunch at this time is actually something I look forward to every single day(honestly).
So, having this doctor’s appointment at noon was seriously messing with my noon lunch….and that made me crabby.
I was even crabbier as I found that the doctor’s office was running behind schedule and my noon appointment turned into a 12:15 appointment or maybe a 12:30 appointment…12:45? Seriously?
Sitting in the waiting room, my stomach growled more and more with every second. I stared at the book in my hand but I wasn’t reading, not really reading.
I may have been staring at the words on the page but I was thinking about the lunch that I wasn’t eating - the banana, the wheat thins, the diet coke.
Other patients were getting called in left and right but I just sat there waiting…waiting….waiting.
I could feel myself getting weaker and weaker.
Could the receptionist hear my stomach growling? Did she realize how hungry I was? Did she know how cruel she was being?
I was actually starting to compare myself to the starving people in Africa from the Sally Struthers adds (not even close…I know, I know).
Just sitting there….staring…waiting….hungry.
It all seemed so unfair.
The woman sitting next to me came in a good 20 minutes after me and believe you me, I was paying close attention to when people were arriving and when they were getting called. If she had been called in before me I’m certain I would have started crying right then and there.
What if I actually collapsed right then and there in the middle of their waiting room? Would that teach them a lesson about making a person wait 45 minutes!
But then – the sky of cleared, the sun came out and choirs of angels sang as the nurse stepped into the waiting room and called my name.
I saw the doctor, asked way fewer questions than normal (which, clearly, made him happy), and was out of the office in record time. Back in the office with 5 minutes to spare, I sat down to my wheat thins with joy in my heart.
Nothing was different when I stepped off the elevator that night. I could hear Mo meowing instantly and knew I would face her angry and impatient stare the moment I walked through the door.
I fed her quickly and without a single mention of her diva behavior as that particular night she didn’t seem like quite so much of a drama queen.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeep.
These days I , instead, greet the day with the new and equally obnoxious sound of a hungry little white, brown and gray drama queen by the name of Mo.
Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. MEEOOOOOW.
The sounds are slightly different, but similar in their urgency. One you can turn off…one you most certainly cannot.
Early on, we had an understanding with Mo – every morning, I would wake up for my run around 5:15 and feed her. She would hear my alarm and, knowing that her breakfast would quickly follow, excitedly (yet quietly) met me in the kitchen. It was nice to wake up to a loving little individual, trotting around in anticipation.
After a few months of this cuteness, she must have noticed that I sometimes hit the snooze button and, in order to ensure that I woke up to the alarm the FIRST time, began running into the bedroom and jumping on the bed the minute the beeping began. Still cute.
After a few more months (apparently noticing that I had learned to ignore her presence) she decided to add the meow to her routine… at first a faint “Ummm, excuse me, Faith, but would you mind getting up and feeding me?” developing slowly into a full-powered “Seriously, I’m not kidding – get out of bed and feed me – Faith…Dave….anybody….hello?.”.
For a short period of time she actually started meowing in anticipation of the alarm (by approximately 5 minutes) – it would appear that was just a phase (thank goodness).
It’s not fun to greet the day to the intense and constant stare of a hungry cat but the morning is nothing compared to her afternoon feeding time. On the days that Dave is working from home, she starts bugging him around 4 pm. This involves meowing, yes, but it also involves pretending to try to eat inedible things: plants, paper, whatever happens to be on the floor – “Look at me, Dave, I’m SOOO hungry that I’m about to eat your computer cord…you’ll feel really bad when I eat this plastic plant…it’s ok, take your time, I’ll just be over here, eating these packing peanuts.
Let me emphasize “pretending to try to eat” because we have never had any evidence that she actually does eat any of the objects - and we both watch carefully.
Then are the days that Dave is traveling and she is forced to wait until I get home from work. As bad as I’m sure she is at 4, something happens to her in the two hours between 4 and 6 pm – a transformation from cord-eating, yes, but still cute Mo into a crazy-eyed little monster driven to the very brink of insanity by the need to eat. I can hear her meowing impatiently the minute I exit the elevator and as I walk down the hallway of the apartment building (which is probably lovely for the neighbors). When I open the door, I find her walking in circles, meowing to herself - the translation likely being something along the lines of: “bad, bad owner….starving cat…going to collapse…can’t take it much longer.…can barely stand up…so…hungry”)
Now, before anyone accuses us of being neglectful owners or making light of a hungry cat, let me assure you that Mo is more than adequately fed. In fact, in the first 6 months she lived with us, she gained 2 lbs and 2 lbs is not insignificant when you only started out at 11.
She is not, I repeat, she is not starving and certainly does not need to look to computer cords or plastic plants or packing material for nourishment – she is simply a drama queen and I told her that every night as I fed her until…
I had a doctor’s appointment not all that long ago.
I hate doctor’s appointments. There’s nothing wrong with going to see the doctor. In fact, being a self-diagnosed hypochondriac (is it ironic to describe yourself as a "self-diagnosed hypochandriac"...or is it just accurate?), I actually really like seeing the doctor because I get to ask LOTS of questions about conditions that I’m sure I have. What I hate is having to spend my lunch hour doing something other than, well, other than eating my lunch.
I’m a creature of habit - I eat my lunch at noon every day, at my desk, and it always consists of a diet coke, a banana, wheat thins and fig newtons (I know you don’t approve mom – sorry J). I have eaten this lunch, at this time, and in this location 5 days a week, for the past 5 years. I think people at work might think that I’m not able to afford a real lunch, but that isn’t the case. No, in truth I really, really like wheat thins, fig newtons, bananas and diet coke and I get really hungry at exactly noon every day.
This lunch at this time is actually something I look forward to every single day(honestly).
So, having this doctor’s appointment at noon was seriously messing with my noon lunch….and that made me crabby.
I was even crabbier as I found that the doctor’s office was running behind schedule and my noon appointment turned into a 12:15 appointment or maybe a 12:30 appointment…12:45? Seriously?
Sitting in the waiting room, my stomach growled more and more with every second. I stared at the book in my hand but I wasn’t reading, not really reading.
I may have been staring at the words on the page but I was thinking about the lunch that I wasn’t eating - the banana, the wheat thins, the diet coke.
Other patients were getting called in left and right but I just sat there waiting…waiting….waiting.
I could feel myself getting weaker and weaker.
Could the receptionist hear my stomach growling? Did she realize how hungry I was? Did she know how cruel she was being?
I was actually starting to compare myself to the starving people in Africa from the Sally Struthers adds (not even close…I know, I know).
Just sitting there….staring…waiting….hungry.
It all seemed so unfair.
The woman sitting next to me came in a good 20 minutes after me and believe you me, I was paying close attention to when people were arriving and when they were getting called. If she had been called in before me I’m certain I would have started crying right then and there.
What if I actually collapsed right then and there in the middle of their waiting room? Would that teach them a lesson about making a person wait 45 minutes!
But then – the sky of cleared, the sun came out and choirs of angels sang as the nurse stepped into the waiting room and called my name.
I saw the doctor, asked way fewer questions than normal (which, clearly, made him happy), and was out of the office in record time. Back in the office with 5 minutes to spare, I sat down to my wheat thins with joy in my heart.
Nothing was different when I stepped off the elevator that night. I could hear Mo meowing instantly and knew I would face her angry and impatient stare the moment I walked through the door.
I fed her quickly and without a single mention of her diva behavior as that particular night she didn’t seem like quite so much of a drama queen.
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