A Day In The Life Of A Cat

And so it is time for the cat to have her say on matters most pressing....

7:12 AM. Waking up at home. Taking a big stretch. A much required yawn. Feeling fresh and ready to go and able to stay awake until my next nap. But first things first. It is breakfast time, and like all cats, I like my breakfast to be just so. 

7:17 AM. Sitting on the back of the couch, looking out into the semi-darkness of pre-dawn. Boy, the sunrise is late this time of year. And I see there’s been more snow in the night. Just as long as it doesn’t delay my staff in coming home from that work place. Speaking of my staff, I know she’s awake, I mean, I hear the shower upstairs, so what’s taking her so long? I was awake five minutes ago, and I should be eating my breakfast right about now. I’m just going to have to train my staff better.

7:26 AM. The staff comes downstairs. It’s about time, staff. I was about to send a St. Bernard upstairs with a flask of brandy to search for you. I only mean that figuratively- there’s no way I’d let a St. Bernard into this house. Anyway, have you given any thought to my breakfast?

7:28 AM. Meowing insistently while the staff prepares my breakfast. She’s already taken out a canister of tuna and the milk container. This I approve of. At the same time, she persists in taking out the field rations and pouring me a bowl.

7:29 AM. The staff puts down the bowl of field rations and then sets down a plate of tuna and a bowl of milk. I help myself to the tuna first. I shall completely ignore the field rations.

7:31 AM. Licking my chops after finishing breakfast. The tuna and milk were satisfactory. The field rations continue to remain untouched. I shall leave the staff in peace and quiet to have her breakfast.

7:34 AM. Sitting on the back of the couch, staring outside at my domain. Hearing the sound of that irritating mutt barking somewhere off in the distance. Dogs are such a trial for we cats to have to put up with if you ask me, and of course you are asking me.

7:39 AM. The staff is heading out the front door. I bid her farewell with a head bonk to her leg. Now then, staff, you be careful out on those roads. After all, if something happened to you and you had to go into the hospital, who would feed me dinner?

8:08 AM. More distant barking from that annoying hound down the road. This time he sounds mad. As if events have turned against him. Oh, that’s good. His day isn’t going as planned. I find that enormously satisfying.

8:26 AM. I’ve turned on the television to see if there’s any news of note. If you ask me, there’s way too much cheerfulness in morning newscasts. Have none of these people ever heard of the notion that not everyone is a morning person? Or in my case, a morning cat.

8:29 AM. Turning off the television. It’ll be weeks of Christmas commercials, and I was already sick of Jingle Bell Rock accompanying any ad two years ago. It’s enough to make one want to build a time machine, go back in time, and slap the song writer.

8:31 AM. ….and don’t even get me started on Feliz Navidad. That awful example of auditory vomit must have been spewed up from deep in the nine circles of Hell. If there’s justice in this world, whoever wrote that one came to a horrible end.

8:32 AM. ….and have I mentioned The Twelve Days Of Christmas? That bloody song goes on forever!

11:44 AM. Waking up from nap. Slept well. Visions of sugar plums dancing in my head for some reason.

11:47 AM. With much reluctance, I help myself to some of those field rations. 

5:19 PM. Waking up from a nap to the sound of the door opening. In comes the staff. Ah, there you are. Good to see you, staff, I’ve been all alone all day just taking naps. Well, as you know, an essential part of every waking cat’s day is a good nap or four. Have you put any thought into dinner?

6:03 PM. The staff is preparing dinner. I am busy supervising. I detect the smell of a good pot roast.

6:48 PM. Dinner with the staff. She’s cut up some of the roast into nice bite sized chunks for me. Very good staff, I have you very well trained, despite your continued tendency to serve me field rations in the morning.

7:23 PM. The staff is finished with the dishes, and now curiously is heading into the basement. Should I follow or just wait to see what happens?

7:26 PM. The staff has returned with a big box… and it’s marked Christmas décor. Oh, come on, staff, shouldn’t you wait until it’s at least December?

7:39 PM. The staff is busy decorating, and to make matters worse has put on an album of Christmas music. Last Christmas is being warbled by some loon who’s never heard of the word understated. I hate that song too. That’s it, I am making a considered retreat upstairs.

8:11 PM. More Christmas music from downstairs. For the love of Isis, why does my staff listen to crap like All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth?

9:02 PM. The staff’s Christmas music has ended, and I have come back downstairs on a reconnaissance mission. I was quite content being burrowed under the blankets, but the quiet is enough of a reason to determine the state of things. Coming into the living room I find no trace of a Christmas tree- yet. But she’s put out Christmas lights on the windows, the manger on the cabinet, and a few other Christmas trinkets. She looks quite pleased with herself.

9:04 PM. Inspection complete. Jumping up on the staff’s lap and demanding attention. First off, you should understand that odds are I might make some of the manger inhabitants disappear. Second, just between you and me, you have too much of a fondness for nutcrackers. And third, and this is the most pressing issue: you have horrible taste in Christmas music.

10:20 PM. Wondering how long it’ll take before the staff brings a Christmas tree in here. She prefers the real thing, so it’ll still be a couple of weeks at least. Which gives me plenty of time to imagine batting around some of the ornaments and going for a climbing excursion to the tree’s summit.

11:37 PM. The staff bids me good night and heads off to bed. Very well, staff, good night. Sleep well. I’ll just be down here having an epic stare-down with your forty seven nutcrackers.