Have you ever tried to get the attention of someone (“Mom! Mom, Mom, Mom! MOM!” or “Boss, boss boss boss boss!”) and then completely forget, once you have their attention, why you wanted it in the first place?
Banana does this at least eight times a day; when you respond, “What, Banana, what,” she pauses, as if trying to remember what it was that was so important. And then she thinks of something new to tell you.
At 6 a.m. (or BWT—Banana Wakeup Time) EVERY morning, Banana begins to talk . She stands, or sits, outside the bedroom door and whines (I would say, “Like a dog”, but I don’t want to offend her). Translated into human language, I think she’s saying, “Hey. Hey. Heyyyyyyy…” If she hears even the slightest creak, she keeps it up. Otherwise, she wanders off to doze on Peters’-but-really-the-cats’-bed. It’s almost as if the humans push her Snooze Button, because 30 minutes later, she’s back at the door.
There is much joy, rubbing of legs, and talking if Karen gets up first. If Gale comes out of the bedroom on her own, well, that’s just not right and Banana throws herself onto the floor in a sulk.
Banana continues to talk to Karen as they walk to the kitchen. Under no circumstances are there to be distractions along the way—food bowls are empty, and at least one cats’ tummy is rumbling.
The only time Banana is quiet in the kitchen is when she’s eating. She loves company at mealtimes, but really must focus on her food. Exactly 15.6 seconds after the human leaves the kitchen, Banana does too. It’s lonely in the kitchen without her people! The best days for Banana are when the people are home all day—then she has the potential of 67 or more trips to the food bowls, as the people make breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, coffee, tea, wash dishes, take laundry through, go in and out to the garage, bake, talk on the phone, and any number of other human activities. Most days, Banana is lucky if her people are in the kitchen long enough to make breakfast, pack a lunch, and then leave for the day.
When they’re gone, Banana spends part of her day perched on a table by the front window, watching for the return of Karen.
As soon as she sees Karen’s car in the driveway, Banana runs to the back door, for she has much to tell Karen: about the birds that came to the feeder, the funny way Cheese was sleeping today, the squirrel bathing outside on the back step, the way Twitch taunted her from the backyard by jumping up on Banana’s favorite chair and cleaning herself! Karen politely listens, but just in case Karen missed anything, Banana repeats all the stories, from the beginning, until bedtime. She does break for snacks, and for the much-needed scratch-behind-the-ears-and-down-to-the-tail-oh-that’s-good sessions that occur nightly at 6:46, 7:29, 8:14, 9:03, and 10:37.
BST (Banana Sleep Time) dictates a quiet house by midnight, otherwise a sleepy-headed Banana will place herself between any human and any thing they are looking at—computers, television, magazines, books.
After all, tomorrow is another day, and Banana has so much to tell them!