He is the first pet I ever had (if you don't count the goldfish we had when I was a kid that committed suicide, seriously, we woke up to find that he had jumped out of his bowl). He is very important to me and I love him dearly. He is not the sweetest cat out there. He will bite you, or claw you, if he is so inclined, but I love him.
Lately, he has been really good about letting the boys pet him and even carry him around. He does not like for anyone to carry him and for good reason, he is huge and I am sure it hurts when the boys do it.
Well this morning at 5:30 AM he started his ritual meowing for me to get up and feed him. Now I am used to it and ignore him because I want to sleep longer. You will never believe what his Plan B was today. He climbed up those stairs and started whining in Robbie's room until Robbie got up and went downstairs to feed him. There are no words. Oh - except that now I feel guilty for not feeding him myself.
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