5:22am – I wish I could explain the sound, but unless you have a cat, and have been woken in the night to the sound of everything they have eaten for the last week being extricated from their stomach, you just wouldn’t understand my wake-up call. It was rough.
I waited a few minutes while listening to the harmonious sound of Poppy (our cat) laying booby-traps on the landing outside our bedroom doors, before deciding I could roll over and get another hours sleep. That thought lasted about 30 seconds before I heard the same gut-wrenching-melodies right next to our bed, on our brand new carpet. I made the least graceful dive ever attempted, let’s call it a botched-up front-tuck, from the bed, landing next to Poppy on what I hoped was not the present she had just left for us. I scared her sufficiently enough to have her flee from the bedroom and continue her exploits on the stairs. I was now suitably awake enough to drag myself from the warm comfort of bed, carefully and slowly navigate my way between landmines outside the room to find a small light, and begin cleaning up.
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