The little feline dictator likes to get up early. No, strike that. No, strike that, too. He demands I get up early. I yell and dig deeper under the covers.
Bouncer jumps to the floor and starts scratching at the door.
I reach for things to throw. Bouncer moves to the bookcase and starts dropping my favorite novels to the floor, one by one. Lucy and I both cuss. In the fourth and usually final round, Bouncer jumps to a table and starts rocking a framed print on the wall back and forth with one paw. I cuss some more, but I get up.