And so it is time for the cat to have her say...
7:23 AM. Awakened by footsteps on the stairs. I see my staff
pass by. Well, hello, staff, back off to that work place you go to now that the
holidays are over? Say, before you go, would you care to put out some breakfast
for me? I would like that served on a lightly chilled plate, by the way. Just
for the record so that we’ve got that established between ourselves.
7:26 AM. The staff has provided me with breakfast. Milk,
some tuna, and for some inexplicable reason, field rations yet again. And no
lightly chilled plate. Oh, it can be such an ordeal at times having this
woman as my staff.
7:28 AM. Dining on breakfast. Will leave the field rations
for later, just in case I’m feeling a wee bit peckish. Do cats say the word
peckish? It seems a rather bird thing to say, even if it has nothing to do with
birds. Though, to be fair, hunger can be solved by the eating of birds...
7:30 AM. The staff is busy getting her breakfast together. I
am busy observing.
7:32 AM. I gently chide the staff by reminding her that
while it was fun having her at home through the holidays, I did not find it remotely
amusing to have her idiot relations stay over for Christmas Eve and
Christmas Day. I mean, honestly, staff, I spent prime getting spoiled by you
hours hiding, instead, in one of the four dozen bolt holes in this house that I
have set up for just such an emergency. Sure, those annoying brats never found me, but not for lack of trying!
7:43 AM. The staff is on her way out the door. Very well,
staff, leave me to my own devices, but I expect you home promptly after work. I
have a belly that needs rubbing, after all, but only three times, because any
more than that sets off my claw your hand impulse.
7:45 AM. Sitting on the back of the couch, watching the
staff get in the car. Okay, how am I to fill my day? Aside from naps. Because
as we all know, plenty of naps are a
prerequisite for call cats to charge our felininity.
Yes, felininity is a word. Now.
7:53 AM. Staring out the window at my domain. Off in the
distance there’s the muffled sound of that annoying
mutt from down the road, barking for no reason at all. What purpose dogs
serve in the greater scheme of it all eludes me. All I know is I don’t like them.
8:03 AM. Watching the birds out on my lawn, flying around
the feeders. It’s a shame I don’t have a way to go in and out when the staff is
gone. I’d love to get my paws on one of those flying lunches.
8:08 AM. Musing on the meaning of life. Is catnip the true
meaning of existence? Because if it is... that would explain everything.
8:12 AM. Peering out at the snow and the peace and quiet. I
have the oddest sense that someone’s watching me.
8:13 AM. Finding myself profoundly annoyed by the sight of
that irritating dog crossing my lawn.
I begin an epic hissing storm.
8:14 AM. Voicing my displeasure at that foul hound as he just stands there wagging his tail. Get lost!
8:15 AM. The dog looks confused. A common expression for
members of the canine species.
8:16 AM. Watching the dog walking away. And don’t come back!
You hear me? Don’t you come back!
8:35 AM. Still annoyed by the presence of that dog on my
property. Will try to get past the annoyance by a much needed nap. Oh, sure,
I’ve barely been awake an hour, but you never know when you’ll need to stockpile
some naps.
12:03 PM. Waking up. Slept well. Dreamed of that dog chasing
his tail around in circles and getting frustrated.
12:34 PM. I am watching a news report on how long it usually
takes people to break their New Year’s resolutions. Well, I won’t speak for
people, but as a feline, I can say with authority that cats don’t have to make
resolutions. We’re practically perfect in every way already, after all.
1:33 PM. Spotting the mailman dropping off a few things at
the box. Well, I heard no sound of barking from down the road, so all dogs that
way must be indoors at the moment. Why they seem so irritated by mailmen is a
mystery to me. Of course, many things about dogs are a mystery to me.
2:52 PM. Company in the back yard. Three deer are here
licking up bird seed below the feeders. I am busy watching them and feeling my
hunter origins rearing up. Twitching my tail. They’re a bit big for me to take
down, however. More’s the pity.
4:49 PM. Watching the road for any sign of the staff’s car.
Come on, staff, where are you already? I’m getting impatient here.
5:15 PM. The staff finally
walks in the front door. It’s about time, I was going to send a search party
after you.
6:03 PM. The staff is making dinner. I’m busy supervising.
My staff always requires serious supervision with such things, after all.
6:31 PM. Having dinner. The staff is having brussel sprouts
with her lamb chops for some strange reason. I’m just having cuts of lamb.
Reminds me of a nursery rhyme for some reason. With seasoning.
9:06 PM. Musing on what came first: the belly rub or the
purr.
11:31 PM. The staff is off to bed. Very well, staff, have a
good night. But keep the door open. I expect to come up at four in the morning
and start meowing at you for no reason at all.
There's something about Grumpy Cat that is funny. How Grumpy would hate that.
ReplyDeleteI love Grumpy Cat, too. And she would hate it!
ReplyDeleteDon't blink!
ReplyDeleteThat cat does look frightened of being squished.
ReplyDeleteRaising awareness of cats trapped in a folk music environment is way overdue.
ReplyDelete@Mari: she's so funny!
ReplyDelete@Norma: she would.
@Mark: definitely not.
@Kelly: oh, yes!
@Lynn: it's cruel and unusual punishment to be subjected to endless rounds of kumbayah, o lord, kumbayah...
Don't look the cat in the eyes.... the dog is so nice and the cat so mean.
ReplyDeletecheers, parsnip
You are right about plants. We no longer have any real plants anywhere except outside planted in the ground. But that's not all. We can't have any faux plants, either, as the cats attack them, eat them, and eventually they fade away except for what appears to be a few small sticks!
ReplyDeleteDon't look to the left. Or right, for that matter. Grumpy rules, but others caught my cat fancy as well!
ReplyDelete