I got up this morning and went outside to repeat the same routine I’ve been doing for years. I fed five chickens and five dogs. There wasn’t much light but I stopped and looked around at the sky to see if I could see the morning sun peaking out from behind the waving tree tops. Nope, wasn’t late enough to see the sun and I needed to finish getting ready for work. I started walking towards the back door and paused again because I felt like i was forgetting something. I looked around once more in the cool morning air but couldn’t for the life of me remember what I was forgetting. I went inside and picked up an apple and apple corer to prepare my lunch and heard from outside a loud and quite annoyed “MEOW.” Shoot, of course, it was our black cat, Midnight (I know I know how original). His timing was impeccable. He rarely meows because somehow I think he knows how much it annoys me but he had every right to remind me this morning. How I can forget a part of my routine that I’ve been doing for so long perplexes me. Merriam-Webster defines the cat’s meow as a highly desirable person or thing. I guess from Midnight’s perspective that highly desirable thing was his breakfast.