my cat has mad skilz.
I'm telling you. He does. He's 16 or 17 years old (yeah) and has figured out how to open the door to my bedroom. Now let me explain. My bedroom door has a twist knob- and this cat has figured out how to turn and twist the darn thing and get it open at 5:30 or 6am in the blessed a.m.
At this point, he hops his little body onto my bed and begins pawing the back on my head..... my face... my ears- which as, by the way, being mightily abused by his horrific wailing.
All..... for breakfast. Because the little Prince Chester cannot wait until 7am when I get up.
Of course, I've been known to give him a bath with the spray bottle at times.