Something wicked this way claws

Weekday mornings suck in and of themselves, but mine are exacerbated by Sugar.

She begins meowing somewhere between 4:00 and 6:00 am, signaling that she wants food, affection, or to defecate. The food and affection can wait until I'm fully up, and a few warning shakes of my water bottle are enough to threaten her into silence for another thirty minutes. But the call to use the litterbox is one I cannot deny, and not uniquely sounding. I only come to find out that's what she wants to when tell-tale smell of cat poop/pee wafts over my way from the corner of the room and awakens me like no alarm can. So I almost always cow tow to any peep she makes, and am up to feed her or open the door.

Once I'm finally awake, showered, moisturized, and dressed, I then have to try and make it out of the house unscathed, because she attacks me as I'm trying to go. Her eyes will go solid black like the sharks in "Finding Nemo" when they taste fish blood, and she'll chase me down the hallway. I have to face her down and yell at her, which only kind of works, since she'll still look up at me with demon eyes and no trace of fear at the thought of attacking something ten times her size.

This morning, as I exited my room into the hallway, I saw her standing completely still before the front door, like one of those Egyptian cat statues. It was like something out of "The Shining", and creeped me out. So I maneuvered around her while trying to get my shoes, and tried shooing her away from me. She just meowed at me. Not in a "Please don't leave" sort of way, but as if to say, "If you leave, I'll cut you, bitch", like some sort of abusive boyfriend.

So, she leapt up to attach me and I deflected her. Then told her I loved her as I closed the door and left, her little claws reaching underneath the door grasping at me.

Silly puddy tat.