It is time, once more, for the point of view of the resident cat....
7:09 AM. Waking up at home. Yawning and taking a big stretch. Feeling well rested. Dreamed of chasing the red dot, and finally catching it.
7:12 AM. Gazing out at the vastness of my domain. Flying lunches around the feeders. If I was out there right now, I’d be in the midst of pouncing, so consider yourselves lucky there’s glass between me and you.
7:16 AM. Sounds from upstairs. The staff is getting ready for the day. Very well then. I shall wait for my breakfast. But don’t leave me waiting too long, staff, because I swear to Isis, if you do, there will be hell to pay.
7:24 AM. The staff finally comes downstairs. It took you long enough, you know. Now then, to breakfast. I have specific requirements that you should be seeing to. One of those, had you woke up a half hour earlier, would have been to place a plate in the fridge for a good chilling. We can’t have you do that the night before, it would be too cold. No, the optimum culinary experience requires slightly chilled plates for my breakfast. But as we’ve already established, you weren’t down here a half hour ago to prepare that. So we’ll just have to make do with what we’ve got.
7:25 AM. Making demands of the staff as she gets things going. She’s taken a can of tuna out from the pantry, so I know I’m getting some of that. A bowl of milk too, staff, and would it kill you not to bother with the field rations?
7:27 AM. The staff has set down my breakfast. I approve of the bowl of milk and plate of tuna. She persists in putting down a bowl of field rations too.
7:28 AM. I content myself with eating my tuna. I shall wash it down with milk, and ignore the field rations.
7:30 AM. Licking my chops and heading off into the living room to let the staff have her breakfast in peace. She’s got one of those work days again today, so I’m on my own. Well, I can get plenty of naps in, and as we all know, there is no such thing as too much napping.
7:38 AM. Hearing the sounds of distant barking. It’s that foul hound again, running around like the idiot he is, waking up the entire world, it seems. What purpose dogs serve in the universe is beyond me.
7:42 AM. Bidding farewell to the staff as she’s on her way out the front door. Now then, staff, if it’s not too much trouble, buy me another cat toy on your way home. Something bouncy and fluffy that I can bat under the piano with the rest of my cat toys.
7:44 AM. Watching the staff’s car pull out the driveway. Okay then, I’ll have to entertain myself for the rest of the day. In between naps. Naps are essential, after all.
8:22 AM. Hissing at the top of my lungs as that irritating mutt walks on my property. Hey! Get lost, you rotten dog!
8:23 AM. The annoying dog stares at me as if confused, while I curse his name. What part of go away do you not get?
8:24 AM. The foul hound takes his leave of my property. And don’t come back, you hear me? Don’t come back!
8:57 AM. I think that a nap is in order. Say three or four hours?
12:08 PM. Awake again. Feeling a bit hungry. As I finished off all of breakfast this morning, I shall have to go for some of those field rations.
12:44 PM. Watching some of those Winter Olympics on television. Will someone please explain to me what demented escapee from a lunatic asylum makes figure skaters dress like that?
1:31 PM. Distant barking down the road. The mailman is obviously on time as usual. And that foul hound is pissed off about it. Good.
2:21 PM. More of the Olympics. Downhill skiing. Thus far nobody’s suffered a catastrophic leg breaking fall. Too bad.
4:55 PM. Waking up from another nap. Dreamed of winning an Olympic medal for tangling up a ball of yarn.
5:32 PM. The staff arrives at home. Well, it’s about time, staff, I was about to send a search party out for you. Now then, have you put any thought into my dinner? Because between you and me, I’m feeling quite hungry right about now.
6:03 PM. Patiently supervising the staff while she’s making dinner. I smell the welcome scent of lamb chops.
6:41 PM. Dinner with the staff. She’s cut up a chop into nice bite sized pieces for me, and I am busy savouring it. I don’t know why she insists on having sprouts with hers, but then again, as I’ve observed before, human beings are quite strange at times.
8:02 PM. The staff is watching some of the Olympics coverage. I am busy calculating the velocity of someone hurtling head first down a course on a small metal frame. No doubt they call this sport skeleton because the athlete is increasing their chance of becoming one much sooner.
9:46 PM. My staff is caught up in watching curling. I don’t get it. Loud pants, loud players, and brooms and rocks on ice. Someone please explain the point of this whole thing to me. Is this some sort of bad joke?
11:26 PM. Bidding goodnight to my staff. Very well, staff. Good night. Keep the door open, though. I might be inclined to come up around four in the morning and scream lots of line into your ear.