And now it is time for Her Imperial Grace the cat to have the final word....
7:08 AM. Waking up at home. Had the strangest dream. My staff tried making me wear Easter bunny ears and I clawed her hands for it. I wonder if it was a premonition. Things to come, perhaps?
7:10 AM. Sounds of movement from upstairs. So, my staff is awake. I’ll give her a few minutes, and if she’s not downstairs by the time I run out of patience, I’m going to start meowing for as long as I can as loudly as I can.
7:12 AM. Pondering the continued state of snow outside. This is supposed to be spring. I assume someone forgot to inform Old Man Winter, and Spring is simply too polite to give him a swift kick in the ass. Oh well. We’re getting longer days now, and I can feel the warmth of the sun when I spend time in window sills, so sooner or later we’re going to see green lawns and flying lunches not depending on bird feeder stations.
7:23 AM. The staff finally comes downstairs. Well, staff, it’s about time. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on you? Fifteen minutes, and every second of those fifteen minutes have felt like an eternity. Now then, it is time for my breakfast, so let us begin with my orders for today, which I expect you to follow to the letter, do you understand me?
7:24 AM. ….and honestly, staff, would it kill you to get up a half hour earlier and put a plate in the fridge? I have told you many times that I like my meat on a slightly chilled plate, and since I lack the opposable thumbs to open cupboards and fridge doors, it is up to you to do so for me. Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m high maintenance. Well, I am not high maintenance. I just like things to be just so.
7:25 AM. The staff sets down a bowl of milk for me, followed by a plate of tuna. And as usual, she also sets down a bowl of field rations. I start digging into the first two, which meet with my approval. The field rations do not.
7:27 AM. Finished with my breakfast. I will leave the field rations alone. Perhaps someday my staff might finally get the hint. I doubt it.
7:38 AM. The staff is on her way out the door to head off to work. I meow farewell, with an additional note to inform her not to delay on her way home, unless it is to buy catnip. Catnip excursions are the sort of side-trip I can approve of.
7:40 AM. Watching the staff depart the property in that car of hers. Well, it’s actually mine, given that this is my house and my staff and that car thus belongs to me, but I would have to have the staff drive it, since car makers don’t build cars designed to be driven by cats.
7:44 AM. Distant barking from that annoying mutt down the road. Oh, will you shut up? It’s loud enough to wake the dead.
8:02 AM. Enjoying some morning sun on the window sill. I haven’t been awake an hour yet, but it’s pleasant enough that I could easily fall asleep sitting here.
8:28 AM. Eyes opening suddenly. Looking around. Had the distinct feeling that I was being watched. Wait a minute… there are fresh tracks out in that snow. Like dog tracks. That foul hound was here, wasn’t he?
8:30 AM. Putting in a call to the residence of that irritating dog and giving his human a piece of my feline mind. Unfortunately, she doesn’t speak feline and I would never lower myself to speak English.
10:48 AM. Waking up from a morning nap. As I always say, you can never have too many naps.
11:31 AM. With much reluctance, and since I’m hungry, I help myself to some of those field rations.
1:36 PM. Woken up from another nap to the sound of distant barking from that annoying mutt. Must be time for the mail. I wonder if that dog ever heard of a mailman just doing his job. No, that would require abstract thought as opposed to territorial instinct.
1:53 PM. Watching the Weather Channel. The forecaster looks as panicked as usual. Muttering on and on about the Mother Of All Blizzards and preparing to eat your dead. Yes, that’s what you said during the last snowfall, and while it was a significant one, it wasn’t the apocalyptic end of the world blizzard you made it out to be.
1:55 PM. The forecaster has been yanked from being on air by a channel executive who apologizes for his erratic behavior, promises that he’ll get the help he needs, and that the coming snowstorm isn’t a Donner Party situation.
5:17 PM. Waking up from another nap to the sound of a car in the driveway. Oh, good, the staff is home.
5:19 PM. The staff comes in the front door with a couple of grocery bags. I greet her with head bonks to the legs. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, staff, but rumour has it we have snow coming. I trust you’ve bought ready supplies of bread and milk? I don’t really care much for the bread, but milk is an absolute must.
5:21 PM. Inspecting the grocery bags while the staff unpacks them on the counter. Yes, there’s fresh milk. No catnip though. Staff, I believe I instructed you to pick up catnip this morning if you were going to take a side trip. Do I need to remind you that we only have seven packs of it left in the pantry? I keep a good count of our inventory, you know, and as I always say, you can never have too much catnip.
5:48 PM. The staff is occupied in making dinner. I smell the welcome scent of meat.
6:29 PM. Dinner with the staff. She has thoughtfully provided me with bite sized chunks of lamb.
6:55 PM. Supervising the staff while she does the dishes. Staff, what is it with human beings and getting their hands wet? You don’t see cats going out of their way to dip their paws in soapy water, after all. Wouldn’t it be easier to just lick all the utensils clean?
8:30 PM. With the staff in the living room. She’s reading a book. I am lying on my back staring at the ceiling pondering the great mysteries of life. Does the Easter Bunny taste good with a honey sauce?
11:41 PM. The staff is off to bed. I bid her good night. Now then, staff, do bear in mind that on the odd chance the snowfall coming down is going to be bad enough to close down the roads tomorrow… that means you’re going to be stuck here all day… spoiling me rotten.