And now it is time to turn to the cat's point of view. Your Grace, the floor is yours.
7:22 AM. Waking up at home. Lying near the fireplace. Dreamed of catnip, catnip, and more catnip. Oh, and did I mention the catnip?
7:26 AM. Sound of staff coming down the stairs. Well, there you are, staff. How about some breakfast?
7:31 AM. The staff disappoints me yet again by giving me a bowl of field rations. I sigh and walk away.
7:42 AM. The staff is on her way out the door to go to that work place. Calls out to me to have a good day. Staff! Bring back some catnip!
7:59 AM. Sitting at one of the windows, staring outside. Musing on how long winter might last.
8:02 AM. I can hear the distant barking of that annoying dog from down the road. Just as long as he doesn’t bother coming around to my property.
8:17 AM. Checking out the Weather Channel. Panicked forecaster talking about the Mother Of All Blizzards. You know, forecasters tend to say that a lot.
8:48 AM. Stopping by the scratching post. Okay, let’s give our claws a workout.
8:49 AM. My claws have unleashed some residual catnip scent on the scratching post. Uh oh... catnip craze starting in five, four, three....
9:26 AM. Coming down out of the catnip craze. Cats do weird things when on a catnip high.
9:33 AM. Catnip crazes have a way of leaving me tuckered out. Time for a nap.
11:55 AM. Waking up. Slept exceedingly well.
12:03 PM. After much reluctance, I eat some field rations.
12:18 PM. Staring out the window. More snow falling. The staff had better not get stranded in town if this Mother Of All Blizzards actually happens.
1:23 PM. On the back of the couch, looking outside. I can hear the sound of barking at a distance. No, it’s not that irritating mutt from down the road... it’s coming from the other way. I can only surmise, given the time, that the mailman is making his rounds. I wonder why dogs get so worked up about mailmen.
1:36 PM. Looking around online. One website offers a strange suggestion as to my question. Apparently long ago when the first mailman delivered the first package to a Neanderthal, he might have inadvertently stepped on the family dog’s tail. From that day on, the antagonism between dog and mailman began and only got worse as time went on.
Oh now, come on. That’s ridiculous.
4:42 PM. Waking up from nap. Unless she’s stranded in town, the staff should be home soon. Time to perch myself on the windowsill and await her arrival.
5:09 PM. Where are you, staff? I’m expecting dinner, you know...
5:18 PM. The staff finally gets in the front door. I walk up and give her a head bonk to the leg. Staff, did you bring any catnip?
6:03 PM. Supervising the staff while she’s making dinner. She’s busy dicing up some chicken. Good. I like chicken.
6:37 PM. Dinner time. The chicken tastes good, the milk on the side is a welcome thing... now if only the staff pre-chilled the bowl the milk comes in.
6:58 PM. The staff is getting started on the dishes. I’m retiring to the living room.
7:05 PM. Staring outside. The outside lights are on, so I can see the snow falling. Thinking of what that forecaster said. Wondering if lack of spine or tendency to panic are required traits for weather forecasters, along with getting things totally wrong most of the time. I mean, Mother Of All Blizzards? This is just a regular snowfall thus far.
8:40 PM. I have taken up occupation of the staff’s lap, conveniently placing myself on top of the book she was reading. I compensate for the inconvenience I have just subjected her to by loudly purring.
8:59 PM. Jumping off the staff's lap and starting off on a sprint through every room in the house for no reason whatsoever.
11:38 PM. The staff is getting ready to head upstairs and turn in for the night. Staff, take a look outside. If this keeps up, you’re going to be stranded here in the morning instead of going off to work. That suits me perfectly fine... it means you can spend all day spoiling me rotten. That, to me, would be a good day.