Every morning, at around 6am, my kitten, Ernest, wakes me up by mewing loudly and incessantly, climbing on my face, and biting my hands. It is a testament to human love and kindness that he is still alive, because, as anyone who has tried to wake me up before 8 in the morning can attest to, I’m not usually very nice.
Once Ernest has begun his morning ritual of ear-piercing whines, it is impossible to go back to sleep, so I usually ignore him for as long as possible, hoping that he will eventually give up and go back to sleep. He never does.
