The Perfect Morning with Yuki Grace Beans

Note: The following sequence of events, while often occurring, is subject to occasional change due to the delightfully whimsical nature of our feline friends.

Most days between 7:40 and 8:20am*, my Yuki Grace Beans model alarm clock trills with polite…ish meows and a cocktail of noises from investigative rustling—both growing in loudness and intensity until I tumble out of bed to appease the beast.

*Cats being the habitual-yet-fickle creatures that they are, there’s the occasional 7am or earlier awakening mixed in with the odd lie-in too. Often, she just wants someone be awake and offer company during her morning rounds of cat business.

Speaking of business…

My first order of morning business is turning on the espresso machine so the water can heat up. If I’m not feeling espresso, I’ll set the kettle to boil in preparation for brewing some delightful coffee in my trusty AeroPress. While I wait, I grind my beans before taking advantage of Yuki being at her cuddliest and hold her against my chest, looking out the window together and watching the forest do forest things.

By the time my water is ready and usually long before, Yuki will have insisted on returning to her own four feet so she can putter about. While I brew, often she’ll perch on the windowsill above where I make coffee, keeping tabs on me and the twistings and turnings of the outdoors from one of her favourite vantage points.

Soon after, her pointed-and-insistent meows begin:

Brrrreaaakfast, brrrrreakfast! Right meow!

While my coffee cools, I prepare a bowl of the slop that is cat food—a stew-like substance that’s primarily protein of some kind, given cats are the ultimate Keto dieters.

As she tucks into her meal, I settle down for my morning writing session—the coming week’s edition of Last Week in Formula 1, then working on a Whimsie like so.

Once finished with her breakfast and post-meal grooming, she’ll insist on going outside so she can tend to more pressing cat business—the munching of grass, sniffing of the earth, hunting of bugs, and observing of the world.

So on goes her harness which I clip into her tether, allowing her to roam and explore with a semblance of freedom, saving me from worrying about cars and dogs, or wondering where in the world she’s vanished to and if or when she’ll return.

She begrudges-but-accepts the tether, more grateful for being outside with the ability to chase moths and crickets than frustrated at being constrained, I think.

Yuki’s outside time is essential—in giving her the opportunity to her exercise her hunting instincts and release the chaotic energy that can build up in her. For everyone’s sake, she needs to meditate and bug hunt and pounce on fir cones.

Meanwhile, I continue rap-tap-typing away, pausing here and there for sips of coffee, water, magic potion, and to glance out the window and ensure the Yukster hasn’t managed to inexplicably loop her tether around something.

Eventually, she’ll weasel her way through the door I’ve left slightly ajar, or sit in front of the closed door and meow, politely asking to come inside. With all her cat business tended to, belly full, and each hair in just the right place, nap time has arrived.

Oh, how delightfully peaceful and simple is the life of a cat.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander