Life with Cleo is a breeze once she impressed upon me one simple fact - her way or the highway. This means I am free to hike the beautiful hills and coastal trails here in lovely Pacifica all day, as long as I adhere to a few modest requests. Number one most important - breakfast is to be served at 3:30 a.m. She is happy to remind me of the time by stepping on my head. Should I ignore this gentle reminder, Cleo will step to the edge of the bed and launch herself into a full body slam against me, which sends me flying to the kibble closet, quaking with fear at what might come next. Breakfast is followed by the gentlest stream of water from the kitchen tap, and once her thirst is quenched Cleo is ready to begin patrolling her garden, a job she takes quite seriously. For the rest of the time, whenever I'm in the house, my one responsibility is to respond immediately to her swift rap against the window, signaling her desire to come in and snack. At nightfall, Cleo will curl up beside me on the couch, and allow me to pet her, as long as I don't get carried away. When I remark on her great beauty, she quietly agrees. And when I admire her lovely orangeness, Cleo says that she is really more golden than orange. She went on to explain that golden cats are the highest form of life, and that they are in direct communication with all of the magical beings. "What? Magical beings?" I stammer, wide eyed. Cleo pauses, yawns delicately and then stretches. " Not for humans to know," she murmurs, and then settles down to sleep, ignoring my questions completely, until I finally give up. After all, she is the boss.
