January. Chicago. 06:51.
This is the hour.
There are two types of cats in this world. There are cats who allow feeding to happen whenever the person decides feeding will happen, and there are cats who have a system. I am not going to tell you which type is correct. You already know.
The breakfast situation in this apartment is a negotiation. It has always been a negotiation. Dad does not experience it as a negotiation. Dad experiences it as being woken up slightly too early by two cats and then feeding us and going back to sleep. This is his version. His version is incomplete.
Here is what is actually happening.
PHASE ONE: THE FIRST APPROACH
6:51 AM. This is the optimal start time. I've tested earlier. I've tested later. Earlier produces defensive behavior. Dad pulls the blanket over his head, which is not useful. Later produces a situation where I am sitting in the kitchen actively hungry and waiting, which is below my standards.
6:51 AM. I approach the bedroom door.
I do not make noise at this stage. Noise is a later tool. The bedroom door stays closed at night. I have adapted accordingly. The hallway floor is cold under my paws at this hour. The apartment is still dark. I walk it without sound. This matters. The approach should not announce itself.
I sit outside the door. I exist near it. I've found that existing near someone with enough intentionality registers even through a closed door. He shifts. His breathing changes. He is beginning to register that the morning has requirements.
If he doesn't stir within three minutes, I make the sound. Low. Precise. Calibrated for maximum penetration through a closed door without triggering full alarm response. I have refined this over almost two years. I consider it a professional achievement.
He usually opens the door around here.
PHASE TWO: COSMO
This is where it gets complicated.
Cosmo is, in principle, an asset in the breakfast negotiation. Two cats communicating a need create a more compelling case than one cat communicating a need. This is basic mathematics. I understood this early and factored it into the protocol.
The problem is Cosmo.
Cosmo has never consistently executed Phase One. Cosmo's approach to the breakfast situation involves arriving at the bedroom door already vocalizing. Audible meowing before we have even established auditory contact through the door. Tactically poor. He has been known to throw himself against the door, which escalates the timeline but also creates resentment that undermines future negotiations, and occasionally becoming distracted partway through and leaving to investigate something in the hallway.
The hallway is not the priority at 6:51 AM. Breakfast is the priority at 6:51 AM.
I've briefed Cosmo. The briefings have not fully taken. Cosmo is now considered a variable in the protocol rather than a coordinated participant. Whatever Cosmo does, I account for. Whatever chaos Cosmo generates at the door, I work around.
This is not the plan I wanted but it is the plan I have. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to work with a professional. Then I remember Cosmo once ran directly into the bathroom wall during a nighttime zoomie and seemed genuinely surprised by it. And I stop wondering.
PHASE THREE: VERBAL COMMUNICATION
Dad knows we want breakfast. He has always known we want breakfast. The purpose of verbal communication at this stage is not information delivery. It is deadline establishment.
I use a specific sound. Not Cosmo's sound, which is broad and general and applicable to multiple needs. My sound is narrow. It means this, specifically. It means: it is morning and the situation has advanced to a phase where acknowledgment is required and the window for a smooth resolution is closing.
He responds to this sound. Not always immediately. But he registers it. I can see registration in the way his face changes.
I wait.
If there is no movement within ninety seconds, I repeat the sound.
If there is no movement after the second sound, I go to the kitchen. This is a calculated move. Going to the kitchen ahead of the person does two things. One: it establishes the destination. I am at the food area. I am waiting at the food area. The food area is where we are going. Two: it removes me from their line of sight. Strategic positioning in the hallway creates urgency without direct confrontation. This has been documented as effective.
PHASE FOUR: RESOLUTION
The kitchen. The food.
The sound of the cabinet opening. Then the specific pop of the Mitten's Morsels can. I know that pop from down the hall. From across the apartment. It is not a sound that requires my attention. It commands it. I am already in position when it happens.
Dad forks it into the white ceramic bowl. The one with the small paw print in the center. I eat.
The Mitten's Morsels Ocean Whitefish & Tuna Entree. Correct food. Correct bowl. Correct time.
In the corner, the dooob fountain runs quietly. The blue north light is just beginning in the kitchen window. The apartment at 7:00 AM, when the negotiation has resolved correctly, is a particular kind of quiet.
I've been hearing that pop every morning for almost two years. It still lands the same way.
There was a time when it didn't. I don't have to tell you about that time.
I'm not going to say what that means. But it does.
Cosmo eats. Cosmo's first move is always to take several kibbles from the dry food bag, drop them on the kitchen floor, and eat from the floor. I have watched this happen every morning for almost two years. I do not comment on it. Some things cannot be explained. Dad goes back to bed.
TERMS
What's non-negotiable:
The food must be the right food. Dad knows which food is correct. He has known for years. On occasions when the incorrect food appears, I step back from the bowl and look at it and then look at him with a directness that communicates my position on the matter. He has learned.
The time is flexible within a range. I've watched Dad's schedule enough to know it varies by day. Weekdays: 6:51 to 7:02 AM is acceptable. Weekends: I extend the window to approximately 9 AM, which I consider a significant concession and I want that noted.
There is also the Wednesday exception. On Wednesdays, Dad leaves early for his office. I have accepted a 5:30 AM feeding on those days. I want to be clear that this is not my preference.
Cosmo's bowl must be separate. This is not a preference. This is a structural requirement. Two bowls. Two cats. No exceptions. The bowls go on the floor by the couch, where Dad can supervise so I don't steal Cosmo's dry food. I have noticed the supervision setup. I find it professionally insulting. I show up anyway.
These terms are not new. They've been in place for the duration of my residency. They are not subject to renegotiation.
Dad accepted these terms almost two years ago when he first fed me.
He may not have known he was accepting them.
He accepted them.
Gigi
Written at 06:51
Currently: satisfied. Breakfast was on time and correct.
