For nearly ten years big, fat Lizzy cat has tried one trick after another to get me to feed her snacks - from the kittenish climbing up my jeans to banging the kitchen cabinet doors or screaming meows at 3 a.m. to banging the empty dish on the floors to head bonking me in my sleep.

For nearly ten years I've eventually won these battles of will - I've peeled her off my jeans, locked her out of the bedroom, simply ignored the wailing cries, pulled the bowls off the floors, but she finally got me.

Lizzy has learned if she wants a snack in the middle of the night, she only has to threaten to wake the baby, I will fly out of bed every time. First it was making noise in the nursery, and when the door was shut to keep her out, she rattled the door so hard I could feel the vibrations in my toes when my feet hit the floor. I come running because if the baby cries, no one sleeps.

Who knew a few months of 2 a.m. feedings would lead to an endless cycle of 3 a.m. feedings for the cat?

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