A Day In The Life Of A Cat

7:10 AM. Waking up in the presence of the staff, who is for some reason still asleep. Time for breakfast, staff. Wake up.

7:15 AM. Sitting on top of the covers, directly on staff. Staring at her as she dozes. Tempted to swat at her cheek with my paw. Should I use claws, or keep them retracted?

Alarm clock goes off, ending that personal debate.

7:40 AM. Staff comes downstairs in a rush. Staff, I want breakfast post haste, and for the last time, it cannot be field rations.

7:41 AM. I am displeased. Displeased in the absolute sense!

Field rations!

Again!

7:50 AM. Staff heading out front door. Off to that silly work place she goes to.

Reluctantly go into kitchen to eat field rations.

8:20 AM. Sitting by front windows, staring out at snow. There really is a lot of it.

8:35. Can hear the distant barking of a dog. Sounds like that idiot dog from the farm down the road.

What am I saying? All dogs are idiots.

11:15 AM. Waking up from nap. No trace of staff. Will turn on television for awhile. Maybe I can find something interesting.

11:18 AM. Why is there footage from that Washington place on every channel?

11:22 AM. Blowhard commentators yakking on and on about Inauguration Day. Oh, come on. First of all, I'm Canadian, so this doesn't apply to me. Second, a president still is a lot lower on the ladder than a cat.

11:35 AM. Can find nothing else on television but this inauguration thing.

Really, television? This is the best you can do?

11:40 AM. Simple fact. American Presidents, regardless of party, tend to have an appallingly bad habit of having dogs in the White House.

At least the British have their priorities straight. There's a cat in Ten Downing, and the cat even has a cabinet title. Chief Mouser To The Cabinet. Not quite Supreme Excellency And Benevolent Overlord, as we expect, but it's a step in the right direction.

11:55 AM. Vice President taking the oath. Manages not to sneak the word malarkey into the mix.

11:59 AM. President taking the oath of office. For some reason, he's not pledging allegiance to felines everywhere. This is most disturbing.

12:20 PM. Talking heads droning on and on. Turning off television. Time for a nap. Will dream of being crowned Supreme Excellency And Benevolent Overlord.

3:45 PM. Waking up from nap. Turning on television to see if I can find something along the lines of When Cats Attack.

They're still covering this inauguration thing????

6:10 PM. Staff arriving home. Calls out to say hello. Staff, you had better have some treats for me. The American President refused to pledge allegiance to us cats, even though we are clearly the ultimate life form on the planet. I am quite put out at the moment...

6:35 PM. Staff making dinner. I can smell meat. Now, if she'll just do as I command and feed me...

6:40 PM. Staff sets down bowl of milk and plate of raw lamb strips. Staff, there may be hope for you yet...

6:50 PM. Staff eating her own dinner. Stepping into living room. News on. One of those anchors is muttering something about someone named Russell Brand pushing the ambassador of Belgium into the Potomac after hitting him in the face with a cream pie.

Isn't Russell Brand that drunken idiot who seems to delude himself into thinking he's amusing? And by extension, doesn't he look like something I cough up on occasion?

7:25 PM. Russell Brand issues rambling live statement declaring that he's really, really, really sorry, and swears it won't happen again.

8:15 PM. Anchors remarking on how this is really more of a British problem, rather than an American issue, since Russell is a British citizen. Staff remarks on how those witless buffoons at Entertainment Tonight must be going into overdrive trying to track down Katy Perry for comment. Staff is not impressed with entertainment reporters. For good reason.

9:25 PM. Belgian leader gives live statement on television. What time is it over there anyway? Demands Russell Brand be extradited immediately. Darkly threatens to keep all Belgian chocolates from leaving the country. Well played, sir, well played. Almost worthy of a cat.

The staff gasps in shock.

9:55 PM. Press Secretary announces that Russell Brand has been taken into custody and will be on his way to Europe tonight. Adds that there will be no holdups in Belgian chocolate shipments from Europe.

Staff rejoices.

11:20 PM. Russell Brand on television, being dragged up stairs onto plane at airport, protesting that this shouldn't be happening to him.

Staff turns off television, and picks me up.

Staff, wait. Bedtime is when I stipulate, and not a moment before.

It's futile. Staff doesn't listen, and takes me upstairs, stroking behind my ears. Can't help myself. Start purring madly. Happens every time she strokes me there.

Okay, so the day's over. All in all, not a bad day.

Well, unless you're Russell Brand.