The new morning ritual

I wake up. The cats mill about either harassing each other, harassing me or laying around on top of us. I smoke while they sort themselves out. Then I shove everyone over and crawl out of bed. Hit the bathroom and they always push the door open just to check up on me and maybe fight at my feet a bit. Then it’s time for the hoopla and huzzah, breakfast for kittens! As they go shooting down the stairs in that hoppy, tiny cat fashion I’m watching my feet until they go shooting ahead of me nipping each others bums. On to the kitchen for their breakfast treat. They get a quarter can each of this foo-foo lobster, shrimp and chicken goo. They circle, rowr, wurble and chirp until it’s dished up and then fall to as if they’d been starved for days.
That’s my opportunity to get the kettle on and the bread sliced. By the time I’m settled with my tea and toast they’re wandering back to the living room, ready to play a bit, get their fat bellies rubbed and then pass out all snugged up together for awhile.