It's become a morning ritual for Albert and Elvis to wake me up well before my alarm goes off. You know, because they're STARVING. These two have it down to a science... from the kneading and the head swatting to the constant mewing. Albert is probably the worst. He's puts his wet nose right on my eyelid until I can't take it anymore. I squint into the darkness ready to shoo his furry butt away, but it's too late. He knows I'm up and the meowing turns to howling and the kneading turns to frantic prancing. "Okay," I think. Just get up, feed them and go back to bed. So I do. At 4:30 every morning, I stumble in the dark to the food bowl, trying not to crush Albert as he runs back and forth between my feet. Elvis, never really that hungry in the first place, has curled into the warm spot on the pillow where my head previously rested.
I'm such a sucker.
Edited to add: I just realized that I drew this entire picture with my right hand. I'm left-handed. Can you imagine? I spend so much time on my computer that I don't even know which hand I write with anymore... What does that say about me? Jeeze.
