This morning a five Xenia, Warrior Princess, and Empress of all she surveys decided that it was light enough that I should get up to feed her. I politely declined. She then retired to an acoustically favorable location to sing an improvised kitty aria. I should mention that the head of the stairs has always been a sweet spot that accentuates her “singing.” Unfortunately, last year we had the bathroom completely rebuilt, and the tile surfaces now add additional conviction and strength to her operatic tendencies.
This morning the theme was the fickleness of human love. She sang of abandonment, hunger, and the despair a cat can feel when a beloved human fails her. Then, my son finally opened his door and offered to referee the conflict.
But by now, Xenia had slipped into his room, rubbing, purring, and head bumping with great affection for her young savior. Her tune seemed alated, as if she had wings of joy. ” The fool…I mean, my beloved brother…is going to feed me!”
I rolled over and attempted to return to sleep.