Stretch

In the morning when I wake, I go quiet. 

No stretch.

And if I remind myself, I don't yawn loudly or do that weird grunt thing I do when I want to refuse the daylight and curl back under the blankets.

Because if I move, if I stretch, if I grunt, I welcome them:

The cats, and one waggy-tailed dog.

Because generally they have enough strange respect to let me sleep while I am legitimately sleeping.

But when they sense I am awake they crawl up to my face.

Yes, the face. 

Trouble digs his head into the palm of my hand that rests under my head forcing a petting that I am passively giving.  Penny jumps atop my cheek, breathing heavy, hot, bad doggy breath into my nostrils.

The others might meow or bite my toes.

They are saying

"WE SAW YOU, WE SAW YOU!!  NO NEED TO PRETEND!!  WE SAW YOU, I'MA TELL THE OTHERS!!"

And if I am really grumpy, I will literally pull the covers back over my head, curl my toes in, and ignore them until their pouncing and hot, heavy, bad breath gets the better of me.

Or until I almost suffocate.

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