Pierre the cat was my alarm clock this morning
Like every morning 5:20 AM the onslaught
Starts not so much a ringing siren as a carefully
Thought out plan like a military exercise first
Comes peering into my face from the maximum
6-inch distance his blurry face maybe a mirage
But no next he’s gently touching my cheek then
Forehead with mostly clawless kindly placed
Paw pats I’m determined today to ignore but
Rub his cinnamon paws scratch under his chin
As a sign I’m not happy with this early morning
Attention though sometimes I’ll stoically pull
The sheet over my head to show I’m serious
About sleep but the next step is the most peculiar
He circles around behind me and combs through
My hair like Gore Vidal with partially extended
Comb claws to tenderly untangle a perfectly sized
Clump to bite a tug yes that’s right he pulls my
Hair in a choreographed dance that includes light
Claw scratches on skull followed by tugging a
Mouthful sized lock this entire routine’s endgame
Is a trip to the kitchen to fill his bowl with a quarter
Cup of kibble then hurry back to bed before fully alert
Love this short-lived dozy lull enjoy while it lasts
As now Pierre (and his satisfied belly) moseys back
Silently springs then hovers to pat my face again
“Don’t you want your coffee now?” he implores
In squeaking Pierre talk not a meow but a squeak
“Have you ever known a cat to squeak?” I ask
“I’ve never met a cat like Pierre” is the reply
As his completely relaxed baby cradled body
Rumbles in a purr fest and I kiss his forehead