Another little slice of life story on my grandmother waking up, this time.
The picture in the thumbnail is in fact our cat, Voodoo.

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Grandmother’s Routine

Rolling over, the light of the clock blinked idly, her early arrival back to the land of the living heralded by the gentle loving tap-tap-tap of a silken paw.

4:14 AM

Yet again, the cat’s ascension into human awareness and the skill to read disturbed her as Pretty Girl gently woke her, seating herself like a sphinx across Grandmother’s breast. The gesture was too kindly to remain disgruntled at the cat, stroking her head with waking grace as the cat promptly removed herself out of the line of fire.

Grandma rolled over, swinging her legs off the bed as the sheet practically flew off her with silent grace, leaving her own personal furry lover gently nested in the crest of the pillow beside her. Bamboo blinked at the disturbance, the little Chin decidedly returning to her sleep.
Shuffling along, she washed herself and tamed the gorgon-esque hairdo, holding it down with a simple headband. She continued her idle shuffle, passing by the closet as her sateen robe practically threw itself on her as she floated by.

“Move.” she told the rug at the top of the stairs.

Dexter loyally slept at the top of the stairs, the threshold of the three rooms, vigilant to keep us safe through the night. Or just to come by and nuzzle our feet in a loving gesture as he adjusted to find a more comfy spot to sleep.

He led the way down the stairs, shooing the cats along the way as Grandmother descended, one step at a time, into the fray. An angry yowl erupted from the silk shrub beneath the stairs as Chai harassed Jewels yet again. Lovebug practically cartwheeled along as Dobby made playful pursuit. Beijing sprawled himself along the back of the armchair like a feline shawl. Voodoo nestled himself in the china cabinet, the most interesting cat alive.

Grandmother hobbled over to the coffee pot, and prepared her blackened brew.

“Mooove.” she told the rug in front of the fridge.

Dexter jumped back up and settled himself out of harms way by the front door as she withdrew her cream and prepared her cup. The pot bubbled and boiled while she toiled, sweetening the ensuing potion with a few packets of blue.

The cats continued to play as she nestled herself down for a moment of zen, the squirrels in the maple by the window slowly stirring and chittering as they greeted her with the early dawn.

With maternal prerogative she corralled the animals once she communed with Peace, preparing both breakfast and lunch for the family, both fuzzy and not. With serene conviction the family was stirred and fed to start their day before she retired back to her armchair, Bamboo materializing in her lap as Grandma tucks both of themselves in for a morning nap.