Survival instincts

The cat always tries to wake me up on Saturday mornings.

Some mornings she washes my face. She'll start with my forehead and work down my nose until she gets as close to my lips as I can stand and I get up.

Other mornings she's all claws. Damn, she has long claws.

Still other mornings she sits on my bed and begins to knock things off of my bedside table, one by one. That one's probably the most irritating, because you lay there, awake, figuring that the longer you pretend to be asleep, the more discouraged she'll get and the more likely she will go away and bug someone else. But, the longer you lay there, the more likely she will knock down something that is fragile, special or something that otherwise should not reach the floor in that manner, so eventually I get up.

This morning though, she found something that really works. I was fast asleep when the little bugger stuck her nose directly into my right nostril. Shit. It wasn't irritation that woke me up but pure survival instinct.

I'm sure we evolved that way to prevent bugs and creepy crawlies from burrowing up there and eating our brains. In this climate at least, it isn't exactly necessary, but nonetheless that seems to be how I'm programmed.

If you ever want to wake me up in a hurry, that would be the way to do it. Shove something up my nose.

The little bugger.