It's an image from ancient myth and classic fairytale: Brynnhild and Princess Aurora are both awakened from deep, epic slumbers by the gentle kiss of a lover.
Today it was my turn.
And I also solved the age-old question, "Do cats have morning breath?"
Starbuck decided she wanted breakfast early today. 5:16, to be precise. At least, that's what time her plaintive, high pitched squeak first roused me from my dreams. I rolled over. I love you, cat, but I'm not getting up at five on a Sunday.
She then proceeded with a series of strategic "meow and run" bombings: she'd sneak up to my ear and emit a plaintive squawk and then dart away before I could grab her and force her to snuggle. Each little mew grew louder in volume and insistence. I sat up and she hopped off the bed and looked at me, pointedly.
I threw a pillow at her.
It only took me a few minutes to drift back to sleep. This time, Starbuck decided she wasn't messing around. She sidled up to me and purred, and did that head-butt thing. It felt good. Awww, I love you, kitty.
Then, without warning, she stuck her tongue in my mouth. And ran away.
I decided it would be bad to encourage this sort of behavior, so rather than reward her with breakfast, I chased her out of the room and closed the door, and slept for another hour.