I have a slightly different reality.
At 5:30 each morning without delay and without exception, I will hear the hungry complaints of my cat Duke, who in all his 16 pounds of glory has no business meowing such a squeaky (really rather girly) meow. But meow he does, as he stands with his front two paws on my back, demanding that I wake up and feed him.
This is not as soothing as the little birds would be. Duke will continue relentlessly until I drag myself out of bed, and walk carefully (he insists on walking just in front of me, often turning around to rub against my legs) to the food dish. After this, he will sometimes head back to bed with me to demand attention and cuddling in addition to food. I am happy to oblige, unless he does the annoying thing where he stands just out of reach and continues to complain at me.
Usually around this time, 18 pound Peyton enters the scene. (I should mention that while Peyton is a bit plump, both these cats are naturally big and long and that's why they weigh as much as they do. I do not have unhealthy, morbidly obese cats.) will first hear of him when he slams his paws into the side of the mattress, peering up to see if there is room to join. A few seconds and a loud thud later, Peyton is almost standing on my head.
He immediately inspects the bedside table for a glass of water, and if there is one, then nothing else matters to him. While Duke and I cuddle, he steps on my face, crawls over me, rests his tail on my head and proceeds to drink my water while almost sitting on my head. He loves me, no doubt. After the water, he will jump over me and curl up on my other side, so I am in the middle of a very fuzzy sandwich. This is how I wake up every morning; to over 30 pounds of cat.By 6:30 on weekends, I will usually give up on sleep, grab whichever cat is closest, and walk out into the kitchen with him, petting him while the microwave warms up my morning tea. I think Cinderella would be jealous.
