tell me how you really feel...

This morning I awoke to a big, fat, gray cat sitting on my pillow eating my hair. I know that some of you might find this astonishing, but quite honestly, he does it every morning and I've learned that it's the best way to get rid of my split ends. Talk about saving money!

My routine is consistent – I awake, pee, feed the cats, jump in the shower, dress, blow dry my hair, and then I wake up the dogs. You know, those dogs who can't be bothered to get out from under the covers anytime before 7:30 am.

So, today, I arise to hair chewing and the cries of a cat who clearly has enough meat on his bones to last him until 2015. But as I head out into the kitchen to feed he and his partner in crime, Bailey, I realize something is amiss. Bailey, my sweet, little, black and brown tortie, is no where to be found. I call for her, spring into "mad momma" panic mode and start tearing the house apart. She's no where - not in any of her hiding places and not locked in the basement. I'm freaking out. This is a cat who is a total momma's girl and will do anything she can to get my attention. Unless of course, she's living with Mike at any given time and then she's HIS cat - can't even be bothered to say hello to me. Come to think of it, she's quite a little shit.

Anyway, no Bailey. Anywhere. I check the screened in porch, just in case, but I know that it's impossible that she's out there because she NEVER (read: NEVER) goes out on that porch. It spooks her out. It makes her wild. I call for her, whistle, and no Bailey. Until, from the underside of the bar, I hear this little whimper. She's hunkered down in the warmest place she can find, crying for her momma.

I'm relieved, guilt-ridden, and most of all I'm glad that I won't be any later for work. We come inside and I'm amazed at her clinginess to me. She doesn't want to eat by herself or even be left in a room alone. Poor baby, she's just suffered a traumatic experience and she wants her momma to comfort her. I bring her cat bowl back into the bedroom where I'm getting ready and she eats the rest of it there. I'm thinking, "aw, look at this little girl. So happy to be back inside and not wanting me to leave her again."

At that point, she looks at me, screams this blood-curdling howl, and pounces on my arm. She pounces on me like she's never attacked before and continues to scream at me as I wrestle her off me. It's like a scene from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Once she's free, she stands at the edge of the room and berates me for a solid 2 minutes – screaming, hissing, crying – I think at one point she actually meowed, "how DARE you??" Here I am, being sympathetic to her cries and feeling so bad for her. When in her mind, all she wanted to do was disembowel me and send me to the Dexter set.

I got told off by an eight pound mini-cat this morning. Who else can say that? Huh? Come on, I'm listening.