Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

A Day In The Life Of A Cat

And so once again it is time for the cat to have her say...

7:07 AM. Waking up at home. Yawning and stretching. Slept well. Dreamed of scratching the biggest scratching post of all time.

7:09 AM. Making my first observations out the living room windows of the day. Slight frost on the grass. Flying lunches out on the bird feeders. If there wasn’t a pane of glass between us, I would be stalking the whole lot of you right now.

7:12 AM. Staring up at the ceiling. I’ve heard movement up there, and I do know that the staff has that work thing to get to today, so she’ll be down shortly. Not a moment too soon, if you ask me, as I’m most anxious about getting breakfast.

7:14 AM. Musing that as much as it would have benefitted me to have had the staff come down early to put a plate in the fridge so that I could have that slightly chilled quality that I like so much, it’s more likely that her coming downstairs would have woken me up earlier than expected, which would have had me demanding breakfast all that much sooner. Life is quite a quandary, isn’t it?

7:17 AM. Watching the clock. Lighter than it was at this time two weeks ago, but then again, it’s not really this time as it was two weeks ago. Why human beings persist in changing the clocks and annoying us cats twice a year is a mystery. But then human beings are weird to begin with.

7:21 AM. The staff finally gets downstairs. I meow and give her legs a bonk or two with my head in greetings. You’re running late, staff. Now then, it’s time for you to see to my breakfast. I shall be in want of whatever meat you’ve got waiting. Chicken or tuna will suit me nicely. A bowl of milk would be quite welcome too, and please- no need for those field rations. I insist. 

7:22 AM. Continuing to persistently meow at my staff as I issue breakfast instructions. We really need to get you into the habit of being up early, tip toeing downstairs, and putting a plate into the fridge a half hour early so that I can have that slightly chilled plate to have my breakfast served on. No, I am not high maintenance, why do you keep saying that about me?

7:24 AM. Settling into my breakfast. The staff has put down a plate of tuna and a bowl of milk. As usual, she’s also put down a bowl of field rations. Ah, staff, honestly, what am I going to do with you?

7:26 AM. Finished breakfast. I have deliberately ignored the field rations. Maybe if I keep doing that she’ll get the message. I shall leave the staff in peace, as she has her own breakfast to eat.

7:38 AM. Hearing the distant barking of that foul hound from down the road outside. Frowning. 

7:44 AM. Seeing the staff on her way out as she heads off to that work place she keeps going to from Monday through Friday. If you happen to be stopping at the grocery store for anything on the way home, staff, don’t forget the catnip and milk.

7:47 AM. Sitting on the back of the couch, staring outside. Contemplating the meaning of existence. If the universe is a ball of string, who wound the string up into a ball?

7:56 AM. Tail twitching as I keep watch outside. There’s a squirrel on my property, digging around in the grass and nibbling away at things. I watch him closely. If I was outside right now, I would be stalking you ever so carefully. And you wouldn’t even know it until it was far too late.

8:05 AM. Movement at the treeline has caught my attention. That idiot dog is intruding on my property again. He hasn’t seen me though. He’s focused on the squirrel. One track mind, of course. Well, whatever it is that passes for his mind.

8:06 AM. And of course, just like a dog, that foul hound sprints out of the woods, barking his idiot head off. And of course the squirrel is up the nearest tree before the dog can even get to him. And of course the dumb mutt is still barking up a storm.

8:12 AM. Continuing to observe as the dog walks in circles around the tree, barking up at the squirrel, who has no interest in all at coming down off that branch. Maybe if I’m lucky, that dog will go around in circles so many times that he gets dizzy and feels sick. 

8:17 AM. The dog continues to bark up at the squirrel. He still hasn’t noticed me watching. Look, you moron, you can’t climb a tree, and he’s not going to come down. Give up, go away, and don’t even think of intruding on my property again. 

8:22 AM. The standoff continues. The squirrel continues to sit up in the tree, no doubt taunting the dog. Which I can relate to, as much as I might personally dislike squirrels. Taunting dogs is a service to the world if you ask me. And you are asking me. The dog can’t take a hint and give up.

8:31 AM. The barking continues outdoors. As I can’t sleep while barking is going on, I am presently being deprived of some valuable napping time. I find myself wondering, as I watch the perpetual standoff, if dogs ever suffer from laryngitis from too much barking.

8:47 AM. The dog finally appears to be giving up. He’s ceased barking, staring up at the tree as if mentally cursing the squirrel. He happens to look at the house, and finally sees me. I glare at him and give him the finger. He walks away. Stupid dog

11:25 AM. Waking up from a nap. Slept well. It’s remarkable how well you can rest when you don’t have a foul hound barking his head off outside.

12:11 PM. After much reluctance, I help myself to some of the field rations. Well, it’s not like I can open the fridge doors myself, can I?

1:29 PM. Barking from down the road has interrupted my nap. Obviously the mailman must be delivering the mail, and as usual the dog seems to think the mailman is some kind of serial killer as opposed to just doing his job.

5:26 PM. Greeting the staff as she comes in the front door with a couple of bags. Did you remember the catnip?

6:36 PM. Dinner with the staff. She’s cut up some nice stewing beef for me. For whatever reason she’s put the rest into a casserole with potatoes and carrots. To each their own, staff.

11:38 PM. The staff is off to bed. Very well, staff. Good night. But do keep the bedroom door open. After all, you know how much I love running through the house at four in the morning from one room to another for absolutely no reason, and it’s quite annoying to encounter closed doors.

Monday, November 12, 2018

A Day In The Life Of A Dog

It is time once again for the perspective of the dog and the cat. As always, the dog has the first say.

7:03 AM. Waking up. Slept exceedingly well. Taking a big stretch and yawning. Glancing at the clock. You know, it’s a lot lighter out right now than it was this time two weeks ago. It puzzles me as to why humans change their clocks, back and forth, twice a year. All that does is get them cranky and good dogs confused. Good dogs like me. Because I am a good dog. A very good dog. As long as you don’t pay any attention to anything being said by the mailman, the vet, that cranky cat down the road, or the town mayor. Because they’re all out to get me.

7:05 AM. Scanning outside through the front windows. No signs of squirrels, but I know they’ve been busy lately. Getting those nuts and acorns and all that other stuff packed away in their hidey holes for the winter. There must be a reason for it. Aside from eating over the winter, because let’s face it, they gorge themselves at the bird feeders all the time. Which reminds me, if they’re eating this much, why aren’t they gaining too much weight? I mean, they can still outrun me, which is a source of personal irritation if you ask me. And you are asking me.

7:09 AM. Waiting on the human to come downstairs. I have heard her moving about upstairs, so I know she’s awake. I’m looking forward to breakfast. It’s been a whole nine hours since I scarfed that cookie without her knowing, and I’m hungry.

At least I think she didn’t know.

7:18 AM. Thumping my tail furiously against the floor as the human comes downstairs. Hello, human!

7:19 AM. Following my human into the kitchen. Say, have you given any thought to breakfast? I’m just saying.

7:21 AM. Waiting with great anticipation as my human pours a big bowl of kibbles. Oh boy oh boy oh boy….

7:22 AM. Licking my lips after polishing off my breakfast. Only six seconds off my all-time fastest devouring of breakfast record. Not bad, not bad…

7:24 AM. Inquiring of the human if she might let me out. I could use a run, after all.

7:25 AM. Bolting out the back door when the human opens it. See you later, human!

7:38 AM. Running through the back fields, barking my head off, as happy as I could be.

7:47 AM. Stopping in to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hello, Spike!

7:49 AM. Spike and I confer on the movements of the enemy. He spotted two squirrels having an argument on his lawn earlier, but his humans weren’t awake yet, and he couldn’t get out and chase them. Lousy bastards, if you ask me, Spike, daring to show themselves when we’re inconveniently locked inside.

7:54 AM. Spike and I discuss the likely extreme long shot chances that the mailman might get buried in a landslide before coming down the road this afternoon. Given that it’s not likely to happen, we’ll just have to give him a serious barking at when the time comes. Speaking of time, it’s flying, so I’ve got to get back and check in with my human. See you later, Spike!

8:04 AM. Passing through the woods near the home of that cranky cat. I think I should have a look and see if she’s about.

8:05 AM. Have emerged at the edge of the trees. What falls before my eyes is something out on the lawn… something moving, something smaller than that cranky cat.

It’s a squirrel!

Do I stalk? Do I bark my head off?

What to do, what to do…

8:06 AM. Barking my head off and bolting at top speed towards that squirrel. The squirrel outruns me to a nearby tree and starts to chatter at me. Get back down here! You heard me! Get back down here and face me, you little coward!

8:19 AM. Continuing to circle around the tree while the squirrel taunts me from above. Reproaching myself for giving in to the instinct to bark. Well, in all fairness, I am a dog, and as a dog, I do like to bark.

8:25 AM. Staring up into the tree while the squirrel chatters away, insulting me and casting doubt on my legitimacy. Consider yourself lucky that dogs can’t climb trees, you little bastard.

8:47 AM. It’s no use. That squirrel isn’t coming down, and I can’t stay here all day. I glare up at him and fume. One day, squirrel, one day you’ll screw up and let your guard down. And when that day happens, I’ll be there. And you won’t be laughing anymore. I turn, look at the house, and see the cat in the window glaring daggers at me. Oh, don’t give me that. You must hate squirrels as much as I do. With that, I take my leave of the property.

9:05 AM. Barking at the back door for the human to let me in. Human! It is I, Loki… Chewer of Slippers and Annoyer of Mailmen! 

9:06 AM. The human lets me in after asking where I’ve been. Well, if you must know, I was yelling at a squirrel. He started it.

12:11 PM. Lunch with the human. My mooching eyes have convinced her to give me a dinner roll with ham and cheese on it. Yum yum yum!

1:29 PM. Barking my head off at the mailman as he once again has the audacity to drop mail off at my human’s mailbox and drive away. And don’t you ever come back, you hear me, you monster? You hear me? Never come back!

6:36 PM. Dinner with the human. She’s made my favourite. Bacon pancakes. I for one am thoroughly pleased.

8:43 PM. Lying in the living room near the fireplace, warming my belly, contemplating the great mysteries of life. Were squirrels put on this earth to forever torment and pester dogs? Because I can’t see any other purpose for their existence.

11:27 PM. The human is off to bed. Well, good night, human. Sleep well. I’ll keep an eye out down here and protect the house. In between naps. And if you happen to hear me barking up a storm at four in the morning, it’s because that damned squirrel is on the outside windowsill.