I awoke at 3am, and got up out of bed to enjoy the best part of the day: the time just before dawn, when all the crepuscular creatures are partying.  I love dawn, just before the sun comes up.

 

Once it was light enough outside, I went out on the porch- I have a great second-story porch with a decent view, and a tree that envelops it on two sides (which a previous very naughty cat used as an occasional escape route).  Now, Sheba has an obsession with the porch.  If there is any indication of an about-to be-open door- say, Jack goes out to enjoy a delicious Marlboro, or what have you-  Sheba will run out making a particular meow, used only for this situation. Kind of an urgent triple meow.  It has to mean something specific.  Is it simply “Hey, ma, I’m going out now?”  Is it “OMG, now’s my chance to climb down that lilac tree?”  Is it, “proximity to birds is imminent and my dream of burping feathers like Sylvester will finally come to fruition?”  Because, it’s almost like a “wow!  Wow!  WOW!”

 

Somehow Sheba- who was a wild cat in her younger days, and I will never know exactly what all happened to her, except that it involved five adorable kittens (who clearly all had the same babydaddy)- knows the boundary is not to be breached.  This porch has cat-width railings and she could certainly jump if she had the desire.   But when I tell her “No!”  she knows.  I stopped watching her so obsessively too, as she earned my trust; a couple times I even forgot she was out there for a couple hours, and then found her just lying down, in bliss, or curiously sniffing everywhere birds had been- bliss, again; or just rubbing on the railings- all pure, feline, delighted bliss.

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