A Day In The Life Of A Cat

"If they want the job messed up, they call knuckledragging morons from the Mafia. When they want the best for the job, they come to me. I'm Miss Muffins. Sniper for hire. The world's greatest assassin. That's what I do." ~ Miss Muffins

7:45 AM. Much too early for this. Woken up by staff in the midst of her preparing to go out to work for the day. Expecting breakfast post haste. And it had better be something more appetizing than field rations. Preferably served on fine china.

7:50 AM. Disappointed yet again. Staff merely feeds me field rations of kibbles. Show my dismay by not touching the field rations. Staff, how many times have we talked about this? I expect better service from my staff. That starts with my nourishment. You're coming up sorely lacking, you realize that?

8:05 AM. Staff strokes my back on her way out, and wishes me a good day. Unless you're coming back with premium steak tonight for dinner, I doubt it'll be a good day.

8:45 AM. Finally gave in and ate some of the field rations. Dry and crunchy, as usual. This will not do.

9:15 AM. Sitting on counter in kitchen staring out window. Birds flying out in the trees. So near, and yet so far.

9:55 AM. Stop by scratching post. Sniff the slightest traces of catnip. Am instantly cast into hyperdrive of catnip madness. Must scratch post and go nuts for the next half hour.

10:30 AM. Knackered by my catnip infused nuttiness. Might take a nap. We cats like to nap a lot, after all, and there's no such thing as too much sleep.

12:55 PM. Waking up from nap. Feeling peckish.

1:00 PM. Eating more of the field rations. Who makes this anyway? It's cruel and unusual punishment for us higher species to eat this. This is the sort of thing you'd give to a dog. Or one of those rednecks.

1:10 PM. Washed down the field rations with water. Would be nicer if the water was kept chilled, but such things are not possible when the staff is off at work.

1:55 PM. Sitting on table in living room, staring out window. Would like to get out there and chase a squirrel. Just one.

2:20 PM.  Decide to watch television for awhile. Hopefully there will be proper adoration of cats. We are, after all, the ultimate life form on the planet.

2:40 PM. Newscast turns strange. Politician named Mitt gets chased up tree by poodle and barked at. Normally I would never root for such a lowly creature like a dog, but someone named Mitt has it coming.

2:55 PM. Pundits laughing at quaking fear of politician with stupid name. Elections are pointless, humans. As long as you refuse to just admit that we're a higher form of life than you are. We already rule over you. 

3:10 PM. Back to looking out the windows. Spotting a neighbour's dog wandering through yard. Hiss and scratch at window. Dog looks up. Dog barks at me. Dog fails to show proper respect. Will make note of this and punish him for his disregard at first possible opportunity.

 Dogs are stupid.

3:15 PM. Dog digging in garden. Am thoroughly annoyed by this violation of my property, but cannot get outside to teach dog harsh lesson in manners. Hissing again and glaring. Dog stops, and starts to chase his tail.

Again: dogs are stupid.

4:55 PM. Dog long gone. Still annoyed that I couldn't get out there and teach him who's the boss. The staff will not appreciate this when she gets home.

5:35 PM. Staff walks through door, calling out. Fails to refer to me by my proper royal titles: Your Majesty, Supreme Protector of the Realm, Tormentor of Dogs, Slayer of Mice, and Ultimate Majestrix. Instead staff persists in calling me by informal name I had no part in selecting for myself. I mean, who will take a cat named Miss Bonkers seriously?

5:55 PM. Staff steps outside to do some gardening. Hearing staff cry out in annoyance. Clearly staff has found where dog has been digging. This is what you get for not allowing me the means to get in and out of the house, staff.

6:25 PM. Staff returns inside, grumbling about her roses.

6:55 PM. Staff in process of preparing evening meal. Will placate her irritation at behavior of neighboring dog by purring a lot and rubbing my head against her legs. She likes that. Besides, doing this is much more likely to get me some treats. I don't want field rations for dinner.

7:10 PM. Staff gives me evening meal. Chicken tonight, and milk in a saucer. Will do much better than field rations, but I was expecting steak, staff.

8:55 PM. Staff is reading a book. Must therefore lie on top of book, maximizing inconvenience to staff in the process. Staff sighs and strokes my back. I purr in compensation for the inconvenience.

11:35 PM. Staff takes me off upstairs for the night, saying tomorrow is another day. Will settle in for the night. Much sleeping to do, after all. And cats can never sleep too long.

Note to self: must make staff understand my objections to field rations tomorrow. There is only so long I can put up with such substandard fare. We higher forms of life deserve much better treatment.

Good night, staff. Will dream of clawing that rotten dog.