If they know one thing, it's how to tell time, specifically when it's 6 AM and PM. Pip and Olive dispense with all pleasantries and make their demands known, whether I'm tucked away in bed, fast asleep, or still working at my computer. They begin their yowling and aggressive affection the moment the shadows reach a certain point on the wall, and that is Duncan's signal to join in. No sooner do I step into the kitchen to begin the preparations when all three line up and urge me on, a demanding chorus of meows, whimpers, whines, and purrs, dancing, prancing, and dangerous winding around my ankles. There is no such thing as patience. No such thing as dignity. And no negotiating.
At moments like this I have to wonder who is running the show around here.