I had no more than sat down beside Sheila to milk than Tony showed up. Anyone who watched "The Sopranos" will know Tony, head of one of the Families. He went to the mouse food; I squirted him with milk. He went back to the food; another squirt. Food, squirt. Food, squirt. When he'd had enough of this, he came to the edge of the stand, stood on his hind legs, looked me in the eye and said with a New Jersey accent, "Hey, lady. What's widchu? Ya put the food down, I'm gonna eat it! Quit with the milk business already!" I think my laughing out loud hurt his feelings and he finally left the room, only to wait with his crew for the squirrel brunch I put out daily after I'd finished the barn chores. He got the last laugh.
Frank now decides when it's time for me to get up. He begins with a subtle approach, walking around on the bed talking in that unmistakeable Siamese cat way. If I don't respond, he comes up to my face and says loudly, "Get up! It's time to get up, I said!" By this time I am awake, but choose to keep my eyes shut and try to ignore him. No dice. He is on a mission and determined, so begins to stomp up and down my back and legs. He is not a small cat. I get up. Frank lies down and goes back to sleep. His job is done.
I'm not in charge.