A Day In The Life Of A Cat

Before we get started today, some blog links for you to check out. Go on over to Norma's blog, where this week she marked what would have been the hundredth birthday of her father. A sad event has taken place as well, the death of a young man whose passing was noted by two bloggers I follow, at E.J.'s blog as well as over at P.K.s' blog. Go on and check out Krisztina's sideblog  for some tasty treats. Have a peek at a whole pack of canines (plus one cat) at Parsnip's blog, and since we're getting into cats today, say hello to the esteemed and fierce Audrey.

Time to get into the point of view of this feline overlord....

7:15 AM. Waking up. Had dreams of an endless ball of yarn to be unspooled. I dragged it through everything between here and Timbuktu and still didn't get it all unwound.

7:20 AM. First glance out the window. Oh, this will not do one bit. It snowed last night. We've got a layer of it all over. 

Who authorized winter to start without my express permission?

7:30 AM. The staff is downstairs. Staff, did you allow winter to start? I have expressly told you in the past that seasons may only commence at my leisure.

7:35 AM. The staff pours me a bowl of field rations. I am dismayed, staff. One of these days I'll just have to bolt the locks so you can't get back in.

7:50 AM. The staff is out the door, off to that silly work place she goes to.

As opposed to spending her day catering to my every whim.

8:05 AM. Sitting on front windowsill. Even through the glass, I can hear the sound of that annoying mutt barking out in the fields. 

Dogs are so very stupid....

8:15 AM. After much reluctance, I decide to eat some of the field rations the staff has left me.

Perhaps I should have gone out. Mrs. McIntyre is always good for spoiling me rotten.

10:25 AM. Waking up from my first nap of the day. Checking the clock. The staff won't be back for hours.

10:40 AM. Patrolling house. Looking for any sign of stray yarn balls to unwind. No sign of them. Oh well...

11:05 AM. Stop at scratching post. Feel like exercising my claws for a bit...

11:06 AM. My claws have unleashed residual smells of catnip in the scratching post. I am obliged to go cluster-crazy for the next twenty minutes scratching away. It's a cat thing. Humans wouldn't understand it.

11:30 AM. Coming down from the catnip rush. Feeling sleepy. Time to take a nap.

2:55 PM. Waking up. Good long sleep. Snowing outside. 

Examining calendar in kitchen. We shouldn't be seeing snow like this for at least another month...

Something tells me it's going to be a long winter.

4:10 PM. Impatiently waiting for staff to return. Despite my returning to the front window every five minutes, still no trace of her.

How long do these "work" things take, anyhow?

5:25 PM. Finally! Here she is, coming up the driveway.

And here I was about to do the unthinkable and hire a St. Bernard to go out in the snow with a keg of brandy searching for her.

5:27 PM. The staff comes in. Well, it's about time. Did you bring me something delicious for dinner?

5:40 PM. The staff is busy unpacking some groceries. Unfortunately one item happens to be more of the field rations. Staff, we really have to discuss my meal preferences post haste.

6:00 PM. While the staff is busy making dinner- I smell bacon pancakes- I'm watching the news.

That boor of a mayor is on again. The ogre who drinks and does drugs. When he's not making an ass of himself.

Even for a human, this guy is pretty dimwitted.

6:03 PM. The drug addled buffoon starts yelling at reporters. Mayor Crackhead, you need intensive therapy. For the next sixty years.

6:05 PM. It's like watching a train wreck. You can't help but keep watching. 

I'll say this for my staff. She might be foolish enough to keep feeding me field rations for breakfast, but she has the good sense to think Mayor Crackhead is a joke.

6:10 PM. Checking on staff. She's busy making pancakes. Staff, a thought if I might? Cats already informally rule the world. It's time to make it official.

We'd have that Mayor Crackhead and his supporters set adrift on an ice floe inside ten minutes.

6:25 PM. The staff and I settle down to dinner. She has the good sense to give me some pancakes. Very good, staff, but I must say, you really must work on your morning meals, because you're seriously falling behind in that respect.

8:35 PM. Looking out into the darkness while the staff is reading. Still snowing. What is it the Vikings believed? The world will end in a blanket of snow?

11:00 PM. National news starts with Mayor Crackhead getting perp walked after an arrest at a hockey game. He's incoherent, as usual. Does this guy realize it's time to give up?

Probably not. He strikes me as very, very stupid. 

11:10 PM. The staff tells me she's glad Mayor Crackhead isn't her mayor. Yes, well, why don't we talk about appointing cats to all positions in government?

The staff turns off the television and heads for the stairs.

Hey, wait a minute, staff. I wanted to watch what that Daily Show guy has to say about all this. He strikes me as very funny. For a human being.

Staff? Staff? Come back here!

She's not coming back. 

Oh well. Tomorrow's another day. I'm sure tomorrow will see more instances of Mayor Crackhead putting his foot in his mouth.