There are three things that I wake up to nearly every morning.
The first is that I often get to enjoy mornings like this.
The sun is just beginning to rise on the horizon and the sky bathes in a pink hue. Lavender clouds float by, blissfully unaware that the sun will soon climb higher and their color will drain to white. When the sun does rise, a slanted ray careens in through my window, slapping down on my table and my heater. It works its way around the room as the hours goes by, warming everything in its path.
The second is my sacred cup of hot coffee.
I wake up at six sharp every morning. I put the coffee on and go back to bed, listening to it brew in the kitchen. By the time I’ve gotten up again twenty minutes later, the coffee is ready. A spoonful of sugar (Mary Poppins much?), and a splash of milk. I go and sit in the dulcet sunshine, letting the light soak into my skin as I take my first sip of coffee. Any sluggish thoughts I may have had are neatly organized, the snarls of sleep are banished to their darkened corners, and the smooth taste of french roast and vanilla blends on my palette delightfully.
The third thing that I wake up to, always, is the lemon-eyed demon.
Always conniving, mischievous, and silly, the lemon-eyed demon has become the master of the apartment. He beats on my bedroom door at six o’clock when my alarm goes off. Even when my alarm doesn’t go off, he ensures that I’m bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for work. He’s an intelligent little bugger. He plays fetch, opens doors, kills plants (including cacti), lies in wait in the unlikeliest of places to spring an attack, moves his toys and boxes around, and sabotages any and all attempts to take him to the vet’s office. He does, however, have positive points.
Lemon Jelly is aware of my emotions and feelings always. It’s like we’re psychically linked. He loves to snuggle in the late morning hours when the sun is just hitting his preferred spot on the pull-out computer mouse board for my desk. It gives me a chance to concentrate on my writing without having to chase him around. He’ll follow me from room to room, making sure that I always have company (and that he’s always paid attention to) and he will occasionally curl up and sleep at the end of my bed at night. The animal shelter that I got him from told me he’d never be a lap kitty. Guess what? He’s proved them wrong. If I’ve got a movie on, he’ll flop down on my legs and watch it with me.
His sobriquets include Jelly Belly, Demon Jelly, Squeaker, and the much preferred, Grey Goose. He is, more often than not, a wonderful pet and friend to wake up to everyday.