ENTHUSIASM lives in a cat named Benji .
It starts before dawn when the morning is heavy and I am twisted and sleepy and he touches his nose to mine. I stir and stroke his head and that is all.
Undeterred he touches my cheek with his paw and meows quietly.
“Ah, go away Benji.”
I roll over and hide my head under the covers.
He jumps to where my face is hidden to try to poke his way into my little cave. I turn over again but he follows and begs me to rise.
His patience is gone.
“Wake up Sue!” he chirps in frantic cat tongue. “The world is stirring! I feel it! I can’t wait to get started!”
But I am half asleep and settled in.
No matter, it’s time to race! Around the room as fast as he can, onto the bed, across the shelf, down again, faster and faster he goes, knocking things to the floor to be played with later. (So that’s where the watch went. And the pen. And the chapstick. And the glasses.)
I look at the clock and it is 5:45 am.
‘Benji, no!’ I say. ‘Calm down!’
He slows down, collapsing onto my golden slipper, seeming to know it won’t be long until morning rays reach through the tightly closed blinds and I will be willing to play. He will give me thirty more minutes to sleep.