Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better

Saturday, March 25, 2017

A Day In The Life Of A Cat

As I always start off with the point of view of the dog, so I end with the perspective of the cat, who like all of her species is vastly superior to we lowly humans.


7:09 AM. Waking up at home. Big stretch. Yawn for good measure. Slept reasonably well. Dreamed of chasing one of those feathers on a string the staff keeps on hand to distract me. Which reminds me, where is the staff?


7:11 AM. Have come upstairs to find the bedroom door closed. I commence a vigorous meowing. Oh, right, she must have closed the door after I did that whole running through the house screaming bloody murder for absolutely no reason thing at three thirty in the morning.


7:13 AM. Well, I can at least hear the staff. The shower’s running. She’s not going to answer the door, so I might as well just go back downstairs and wait. 

I hate waiting.


7:15 AM. Pacing around in the kitchen. Come on, staff, what’s taking you so long?


7:22 AM. The sound of the bedroom door opening upstairs alerts me. I come into the living room just as the staff descends the stairs, ready for work. Well, staff, I can’t say I found it amusing to find closed doors. We’ll have to have a discussion about that later. But priorities first. Breakfast would be ideal right about now. I would prefer my milk poured three quarters of the way up the bowl, with my morning meal on a slightly chilled plate. You can forego that whole giving me field rations too thing that you seem committed to doing...


7:24 AM. The staff has provided me with the expected milk and a plate of tuna, which is not slightly chilled but taken right out of the cupboard. And true to form, she’s also put down a bowl of field rations. Staff? I have made it quite clear that I do not like dry kibble.


7:25 AM. I settle myself into my breakfast, while the staff gets to work on hers. I will leave the field rations alone.


7:36 AM. The staff has put a strip of bacon down on a plate for me. Very nicely done, staff, I approve...


7:43 AM. Bidding goodbye to the staff as she heads off to that work place she ventures off to. Yes, well, don’t dawdle on the way home, staff, because I expect you home promptly so that I can be spoiled rotten.


7:46 AM. Watching the staff from inside as she leaves in her car. Snow is falling. You know, we’re supposed to be in spring time right now. You wouldn’t know it looking out there right now...


7:49 AM. Somewhere in the distance, even muffled by the glass, I can hear the inane barkings of that foul hound. What purpose dogs serve in this universe is beyond me.


8:19 AM. Sitting on a windowsill, relaxing, musing on the meaning of life. You know, this would be a very nice spot for a nap.


8:24 AM. Jolted out of my thoughts by loud barking from outside. I recover quickly and spot that vile mutt out in the snow, wagging his tail, staring right at me. As if I’d ever trust you! Hey! Get lost, dog!


8:25 AM. Unleashing a whole lot of personal opinions about that dog, including some language that would shock the Sisters Of Little Or No Mercy. What part of get lost do you not understand, hound?


8:26 AM. The dog is withdrawing. And don’t come back! You hear me? Don’t come back, or I unleash a hit-ferret on you!


8:27 AM. The foul hound has vanished back into the woods. I remain thoroughly irritated.


8:33 AM. There’s nothing like a dog showing up on your property unannounced to put you in a foul mood for the rest of the day. Dogs are a pestilence in this world. Almost as bad as idiot relations of the staff and the vet.


9:06 AM. Turning on the Weather Network. The forecaster looks panicked. Prattling on about a spring snowstorm coming this way. He’s billing it as Snowmageddon IV: The Snowvenge. If you ask me, and you are asking me, maybe it’s time we lobotomize weather forecasters.


1:46 PM. Launching an all out assault on the scratching post. In doing so, I have unleashed the scent of stray catnip still in the carpeting. Uh oh... this is going to send me into a frenzy.


2:03 PM. Lying on my back after coming down from that catnip craze. Oh, my head... I think a nap is in order right about now. Sure, I’ve already had two naps since I woke up this morning, but you can never have too many naps.


4:28 PM. Waking up from my nap. Slept exceedingly well. I always do after a catnip frenzy.


4:36 PM. Staring out the window. Snow continuing to fall. Come on, staff, where are you?


4:50 PM. The staff comes in through the front door. I deliver a head bonk to her legs as a greeting. Well, it’s about time, staff. I had quite the day, let me tell you. In case you’re wondering later about where that other slipper is, I can’t help you there. Cats in the midst of catnip crazes tend to forget certain things, like what they did with the other slipper.


5:48 PM. The staff seems to be getting ready to make dinner. I hope it’s something edible. We’ve already discussed this, staff, and kale is one of those things that leaches out any capacity for joy you can ever have if you decide to eat it.


6:27 PM. Dinner with the staff. Some strips of beef for me, which I approve of. For whatever reason, she’s having sprouts with her meat. I don’t know what you see in that stuff, staff.


11:31 PM. The staff is off to bed. Now staff, don’t you even think of closing that door. Or I will come up at three in the morning and meow loud enough to wake the dead. 

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

A Day In The Life Of A Dog

It is time once more for the point of view of the dog and cat. Starting as always, the hound has the first word...


7:22 AM. Waking up at home. Dreamed of melting snow and splashing around in the creek.


7:24 AM. Looking out the window. Hmmm, it’s still snowing. I could have sworn the calendar said we were in spring. So why isn’t it spring? This is one of those perplexing things that always confuse me about calendars and the tracking of time.


7:27 AM. Watching the birds out in the snow. One of them is quite vocal. Almost as if they’re saying to the others, “I told you we should have waited until next week.”


7:29 AM. The human comes downstairs. Good morning, human! Tell me, do you have any idea why it’s still snowing out there? The robins are out on the lawn looking quite annoyed.


7:33 AM. The human has provided me with breakfast. A big bowl of kibbles. Yum yum yummy!


7:34 AM. Having had wolfed down the kibbles in just under five seconds shy of my all time fastest time, I am now content to plan the rest of the day. Human? I think it’s time for a good run. Would you be kind enough to open the door?


7:36 AM. Out the back door for my run. See you later, human!


7:37 AM. The birds are all scattering to the trees as I pass through. Hello, birds!


7:40 AM. Barking up at the sky. Didn’t Mother Nature get the memo about spring?


7:47 AM. Running through the back fields, barking my head off. It occurs to me that all this barking might well mean that any efforts I make at being stealthy get cancelled out.


7:52 AM. Stopping by to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hello, Spike!


7:54 AM. Spike and I compare notes on the movements of the enemy. We agree that the squirrels seem quite impatient for spring to get underway. They’ve been launching successive raids on the bird feeders lately, which have left the birds annoyed. Yes, well, they must be up to something. I mean, they can’t be eating all those seeds, can they? They’d be putting on way too much weight, and they’d be slow enough for us to catch them. The miserable devious bastards... oh, how I want to catch one!


7:57 AM. Spike and I confer on how long spring seems to be taking to establish itself. Spike reminds me that since we are in Canada, spring tends to take its sweet time, and that we can expect snow into May. 


8:02 AM. I part ways with Spike, who says he’ll give me the heads up when the mailman arrives at his place this afternoon. With, of course, the proviso that he can’t guarantee he’ll be outside at the time. Hey, Spike, I know. Sometimes our humans keep us indoors, even though they don’t understand our duties as dogs include standing sentinel against the pure evil that are mailmen.


8:20 AM. Passing by the property where that cranky cat lives. I wonder if she’s impatient for spring. Should I go ask?


8:23 AM. Walking up towards the house. I have just spotted the cranky cat in a ground floor window. She has not yet seen me. Should I bark? Should I chase my tail? Should I leave while the going’s good? Because that last one would probably be the wise thing to do. Well, I’ve always tended to lean towards doing the foolish and impulsive thing...


8:24 AM. Barking loudly. The cat jolts upright, turns, and sees me from behind the glass. I wag my tail to show my friendly dispositions and good intentions. Well, as long as you ignore the fact that I barked at her. That probably wasn’t good intentions.


8:25 AM. The cranky cat is spewing a torrent of curse words and hisses and implications about my status as a dog. Okay, okay, I get it, you don’t like me. I don’t know why, I mean, what have I ever done to you, aside from bark at you out of a slumber a few times, or that time I chased you up a tree? Man, those were good times...


8:26 AM. Discretion being the better part of valour, I withdraw my presence from the property and take my leave. The cat continues to hiss at me as I go.


8:41 AM. I have returned home. The human is out doing some chores around the barn. I walk up and wag my tail in greetings. Human, tell me, is there any way to explain the mysterious world view of a cat? Because to be perfectly honest, between you and me, I’m stumped.


10:52 AM. Back in the house after finishing supervising the human and her chores. The human is applying that Towel of Torment to my fur for some reason. Wet dog? What’s wrong with the smell of a wet dog? I swear, human, there are times I find you perplexing.


1:31 PM. Waking up out of a nap. Glancing at the clock. Wait a minute... I missed the chance to mooch at lunch! How’d the human get past me like that? And it’s got to be close to the time the mailman drops off the mail.


1:33 PM. Insisting to the human that I need to be let out. Human! It is my obligation as a dog to bark up a storm at that mailman!


1:34 PM. Racing out the front door to confront my hated enemy. Only to stop dead in my tracks as I see his car driving away down the road. He dropped off the mail... and I wasn’t here to give him a piece of my mind! Dammit, human, you were supposed to wake me up!


6:29 PM. Dinner with the human. Bacon pancakes are at least some compensation for this day. Missing the chance to yell at that mailman has kept me quite cranky all day.


11:40 PM. The human is off to bed after seeing the news. More snow coming in, or so they say. Well, good night, human. Sleep well. Maybe in the morning we’ll be surprised, the weather forecasts will be completely wrong, and the snow will have finally stopped. Then again, maybe not. Spring must have hit the snooze button this year.