Clear! Heart Failure by Cat(s)

Remember the other day when I said kitties do all kinds of wacky stuff on the full moon? Today is the day of the night of the full moon. The moon is currently 98% of full. My cats know this and they started telling me about it at 3am, but I did not start listening until 5am when my alarm went off. My alarm is a 10 pound ball of black fur with razor sharp teeth, bad breath and 10 claws on every foot. I call my alarm "Roxanne".

Roxanne, not the most cuddly creature in the world, is nonetheless guided by extreme starvation genes which sometimes encourage cuddly behavior as a means to an end. I, the designated feeder, am notified instantly when one of those genes pops up in her brain. I am cuddled with, breathed on, bitten, kneaded, nose-picked, and have my windpipe crushed while attempting to remain in REM sleep. Sadly, Roxanne can tell time and she knows 5am means EAT FUD!, her most favorite thing. This morning was no exception to Roxanne's skills as a time-knower, except that the persistence level was cranked up to max. I now sport a 2 inch long scratch on my ear, and a puncture wound on my nose as memories of when I did not get up fast enough. I also have fur in my contacts as reminders of her aborted attempts to cuddle her sleeping provider.

I get up and stumble and fall over the starving kitties into the kitchen. I know in my haze that Niko has set Roxanne up to be extra diligent in waking me up, no matter how innocent he may look. I also know Roxanne does not need any encouragement in that arena. I start the coffee, and trip over the starving kitties all the way to their food container. Feeding the kitties is a trial of patience and balance, but I manage to get it accomplished with no significant injuries to them and only a twisted knee on my part. Off to fetch Leo, who's waiting impatiently on the other side of Jesica's door, where he's been indulged in an ultra-humidified sleeping chamber. Leo, poor baby, has a cold.

I yell to wake Jesica up, and notice Ronnie stumbling to the bathroom. The time is now 5:18. What happened to the time?! Leo's cold does not prevent him from inhaling 3 medallions of raw food in 21 seconds, so I frantically prepare his rice sock for ear warming and meter for testing before he can finish and raid Roxanne and Niko's now-abandoned dishes. I grab the new meter (it's sparkly!) and the new strips (how do you get a single strip out of that canister without playing 98 pick up?) and the ever-present delicious treats (fabulous bribery).

I test Leo. 493. Uh..? No way, he's too happy to be 493, I'll retest. Jesica comes out to the kitchen, still asleep, and tries to help. She wants to recalibrate the meter. I say "give me the meter, the cat's bleeding!" Things tend to become frantic when your squirming cat is not interested waiting more than 0.0008 seconds for treats, and blood is tickling his ear. She stalks off to get ready and we test Leo again. 528. O h. M y. G o d. I broke my cat again! I give him his insulin, feed him again and head to the refrigerator to get his antibiotic.

Ronnie exits the bathroom, Jesica runs into the bathroom to grab a hair band and says "hey what happened to the fish?". Oh no. Not again. In our home, "what happened to the fish?" means Niko did something to the fish. The fish is my work fish that I brought home so he wouldn't die at work while I was on vacation. Fitting that he should die at home, where I brought him for his safety. Neon fish stones coat the floor, the bathtub, the toilet and the sink. Fortunately fish was safely ensconced in the 3/4" water that remained in the tank so I cleaned up the bathroom as best as I could and made quick plans to transport him back to the office as soon as I finished getting ready for work.

The time is now 5:48. What happened to the time?! Ronnie heads out the door, followed closely by Jesica.

I run back out of the bathroom, clean 3 litterboxes and spend several minutes trying to figure out the automatic feeder so Leo doesn't starve to death today. I'm struck by the thought that it's a very bad idea to try to figure out anything more complicated than a flat iron at this hour of the morning, and scoop 6 oz of Wellness into a bowl, saying a quick prayer that this holds him for a few hours. I decide to test him again with the old meter just in case. 467. I'm not sure why I'm relieved by 467, but I don't have time to think about it. I now feel like I'm forgetting something but the time is 6:14. What happened to the time?!

I jump in the shower, jump back out of the shower and get dressed. The time is now 6:19. Now that's more like it. I still feel like I'm forgetting something but I'm on a roll. I grab the fish and head out to the kitchen to make my to-go coffee. I run back into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I grab my phone, my bluetooth, my vitamin water, a bag of Cheez-Its, my keys, my fish, my fish supplies, the catnip banana I'm sending Jenn, my purse, my phone charger and notice I'm being followed by all 3 cats. What did I forget? Quick check of the water bowl, everything's good. I say bye to the babies and run out the door, down three flights of stairs and to my truck, jump in and see the time is now 6:32. Only 5 minutes late, but now it's raining and Virginians can not drive in the rain.

I'm passing my first accident when I remember what I forgot: Leo's antibiotic, thanks to Niko's fish homicide attempt.

And so it continues.. diabetic cat mom with half a brain cell on full alert and the other half asleep at the wheel. I'm not sure I'm qualified to handle another 18 hours of the Full Moon Day.