One of my many jobs is to make sure the Woman gets up in time for breakfast every morning. If I didn't do this, she would surely sleep through Time To Open The Stinky Goodness, and Buddah and I would starve to death. Or we'd have to eat the dry stuff. But I think we'd starve.

So this morning I headed upstairs at the appropriate time and started to push the bedroom door open...but she wasn't there. In fact, the door was mostly open. Since I am a smart kitty I assumed she was already up, and since she hadn't come downstairs I knew she was still in the house--presuming, of course, she didn't sneeze out her last few brain cells and jump from a window--so I looked around, and spotted the lone closed door.

Then, because I am *supposed* to throw a door open every morning, I slammed all 15 16 of my pounds against the door. It didn't open, but I heard her sigh and then say "^$#&#*@ Max! Give me five freaking minutes!"

So I counted. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. And then I did it again.

When she yanked the door open I sat down and looked up at her and said, "Good morning!" but she wasn't very nice about the whole thing and I was pretty sure I wasn't going to have a good morning unless I did something to make her happy.

So I jumped up on the bathroom counter and while she was taking a bunch of drugs her medications, I helped her get the water into her mouth by standing up and head-butting her water cup.

This was pleasing to her, because she said "God, you are such a big help."

I do my best. Plus, it got her to go downstairs and fee dup before she washed her hair, so it must have made her very happy.

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