by

Judi Valori



"Stop, Cinny, don't. Please stop. I want to sleep a little longer," I always say as my feline alarm clock kneads the fleshy part of my arm with her razor sharp needle claws. Since the clock radio isn't playing, it can't be 6:00 a.m. yet ,and therefore, I cover my arms with the sheet. Cinny lies down next to me, purring. What a comforting sound purring is. It lulls me, and she feels so soft and fluffy. I drift off until I feel the needles again and vow to trim those claws, as I now hear the radio.

Time to get up. The kittens have helped me with getting up in the morning since I got them on the 4th of July in 96. They demand attention and to be fed. Never having been a morning person, I always put off getting up until the last possible moment and even then some. Getting a dog didn't help much as he sleeps later than I do. But the kittens like to watch the birds with company.

I stumble from the bed, groping on the night table for my glasses. I can't move away from the bed without my glasses. The kittens know this is a sign that I am really getting up, and probably won't be falling back into bed, begging for more time. We head down the steps. For some reason I can't explain, watching those little kitty butts with tails held high, gently waving, always cheers me. I start my day.

I open the drapes even if it's not light yet. There's food to get. They supervise. "Now, now, we want it now," they meow.

"I'm going as fast as I can," I tell them, which isn't that fast in the morning before I've ingested that necessary dose of caffeine.

When the food is ready and put in place, then I can sit and look out the sliders at the birds. I bought a bird feeder to entertain the cats. Then I bought a beginner's guide to birds for me, so I would know what kinds of birds we are watching. It's just getting light today and I've noticed we usually get birds around 7:30 a.m. As it turns out, I like getting up in the morning and having some peaceful time to think and mull with feline company. It's a quiet, private time.

Now I hear the jingle of dog tags. Bucky has heard the kitchen activity and the beep of the microwave. Never wanting to miss a morsel, he sits up in his bed and shakes his head, scratches and contemplates his descent. Even though I can't see him now I know his routine.

"I hear a beagle," I tell Cinnamon and Spice. Boom, he's out of the bed, thump, jingle, thump, jingle, he's on his way down. My canine vacuum cruises through the kitchen just to make sure no meaty morsels or other delicacies have hit the floor. Then he comes over to me, wagging his tail and wiggling his butt.

"Beagle boy, love puppy, how are you this morning? You're up early today." Although the sight of kitty tails gently waving cheers me, the sight of a beagle tail exuberantly wagging always brings a smile to my face. I start to sing and they don't complain. That's only one of the many perks of pets, I've found.

Bucky waits patiently for me to finish my kitty ministrations. Before I can take Bucky out I have to go back upstairs to dress properly for outdoor walking. My entourage of pets follow me now, always curious about what it is that I'm doing. Bucky knows when I put my legs into jeans that it bodes well for him, and he watches with eager anticipation. "I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying, I really am," I tell him. We all descend again with a variety of jingles and jangles.

The park Bucky and I go to in the morning--if weather and time allow--is close but still we drive. It seemed silly at first--to drive to walk--but after the first attempts, I was afraid we'd be killed crossing the street. When we pull into the lot, Bucky can't contain himself anymore, "Aroo, aroo, I want to get out of the car," he howls.

This is my favorite part of the day. I stopped walking in the woods since entering adulthood before I got Bucky, even though I had always enjoyed it when I was younger. Having a dog has allowed me to walk in the woods again, under the trees, on paths, watching birds and dogs and other people. It makes me feel a part of the earth, in tune with other living things. I walk, I think, I sing and life seems full of possibilities. And all of this in 20-30 minutes because, of course, I must still get to work. "Come on, Buck, I don't have all day," I tell him as that harsh reality settles in. Back to the house we go.

After we return, I finish getting ready for work, doing all those typical things, showering, dressing, and trying to remember what I'm supposed to remember. Bucky returns to the bed, watching sadly. Cinny talks to me as I get ready, reminding me of the things I need to do.

As I gather up my belongings, my dog tote bag and my leopard purse, I realize I keep lugging the same things back to work and home again and I usually don't do anything with them. But you never know, I could need something and then I'd wish I had them. Or maybe I'll get a chance to balance my checkbook today, or make those phone calls, or order that magazine.

I start my car and drive off to my job. The job that is sucking the life out of me as if it had a straw in my ear. Every day for about the last five years as I drive to work, I wish I could quit. But I'm the one with the good paying job, with the benefits. I work with nice people and I pretty much come and go as I please. But is it worth it?

For the 8 to 10 hours every day that I am there I'm pulled in a multitude of directions, my energy is sapped, my strength diminishes. I'm overwhelmed by a mountain of work, piles of papers and tremendous detail that never seems to end. And before I even know it, the day is gone. I'm picking up the dog tote bag with the checkbook that isn't balanced, the cards and letters that aren't written, the phone calls that haven't been made. As I pick it up, I know I won't do anything with it at home and will just end up bringing it back in the morning. Yet I can't leave it.

As I drive home I remember all the things I was going to try to do but didn't get done. I pull into the parking lot and up to our unit. Dragging up the walk I hear the barking. I open the door, Bucky runs to greet me, the kittens come to tell me they're hungry. "Kiss me before you kiss the dog," my husband requests. I happily comply. My family is here and my life comes back to me. There is dinner to prepare, dishes to wash and television to watch.

At night when it's dark, Bucky and I stay in the complex, but for me there are stars to gaze upon as he sniffs the ground. There's always something to look at and I enjoy this walk also. We don't get up much speed on the evening walk, but sort of stroll and lollygag and fool around. I'm glad I have to take time from other things to spend some time outside with my dog.

When it's time for bed, my pet entourage follows me upstairs, you never know, I could have treats in my pockets. It's sort of heady to be so admired and I wonder what an entourage of humans would be like. I don't think it would suit me so well.

To read more stories, click Bucky's Story
Read the Tale of Two Somalis Cinnamon and Spice's Story
Bucky Tries Chinese Herbs

That's how I got Cleo and that is a whole other story!! Cleo's Story

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