And now it is time for Her Divine Grace the cat to have the final word...
7:06 AM. Slowly waking up. Taking a big yawn and a stretch. Slept reasonably well. Dreamed of chasing flying lunches.
7:12 AM. Staring outside, looking at light snow. The flying lunches seem quite annoyed. Yes, well, that’s what you get for migrating a week earlier than you should have.
7:14 AM. Looking up the stairs. No sounds out from the staff’s room. Okay, that’s it, time to get her started. She has that work thing to do today, but more importantly, I have breakfast to be made.
7:15 AM. Have come up to the open door just in time to hear the alarm go off, and to see her hand swat the snooze button. Oh, now we can’t have that, can we?
7:16 AM. Jumping up on bed. Beginning to meow at the staff. Come on, staff, wake up, stop ignoring that snooze button and get up. Do I have to walk all over you to get you up? Because I’ll do it. Inside of a minute I’ll do it.
7:17 AM. The staff has finally sat up in bed after my persistent meows. She takes a look at the time. Then she mutters a bad word. Staff, I’m shocked. What would Sister Teresa think of you saying that? Even though you’re not Catholic.
7:19 AM. Descending the stairs back to the ground level. Content in the knowledge that my staff will soon be downstairs after rushing through her morning routine. Humans. Why on earth they invent snooze buttons on alarm clocks is beyond me.
7:29 AM. The staff comes downstairs, in a frantic rush. Just as long as she doesn’t forget to feed me breakfast, because if she does, I swear there will be hell to pay…
7:30 AM. …and furthermore, staff, would it kill you to just forget the whole feeding me field rations thing that you seem obsessed with? I don’t like field rations. You know I don’t like them, and yet here you are… pouring another bowl of field rations in my…..
I give up.
7:31 AM. The staff has set down my breakfast. A plate of tuna, a bowl of milk… and a bowl of field rations. I tackle the good stuff, and leave the field rations alone.
7:40 AM. Meowing goodbye to the staff as she runs out the door. You know, you could just make it easy on yourself today and work from home.
7:46 AM. Hearing the distant barking of that foul mutt from down the road. Oh, will you shut up already?
8:51 AM. Staring out at the vastness of my domain. I think a nap is in order. Sure, it’s less than an hour and a half since I woke up, but you can never stockpile too many naps, if you ask me, and of course you are asking me.
11:07 AM. Waking up. Slept exceptionally well.
11:09 AM. Looking outside. More light snow. Did we miss spring, summer, and fall, and go right back to winter again?
11:38 AM. Despite my reservations, I help myself to some of those field rations.
1:30 PM. More barking from down the road. I presume that idiot dog is giving the mailman a piece of his mind. That’s presuming he has a mind. I’ve always assumed the dog has a lot of empty space between the ears and a sign inside saying space for rent.
3:26 PM. Waking up from another nap. Big stretch followed promptly by a yawn. Now then, how long will I have to wait for my staff to get home?
4:03 PM. Sitting quietly on my hindquarters, watching my tail slowly twitch between my legs. Oh, sure, keep swaying like that, just see how long my patience holds out before I attack…
5:28 PM. Greeting the staff upon her return through the front door with meows. I’ve been expecting you, staff. I should have you know I resisted the temptation to attack my own tail. It didn’t take long after I decided the only one getting hurt by doing so would be me.
5:32 PM. Supervising the staff as she unpacks a couple of grocery stores. Ah, good, milk. The elixir of life.
5:54 PM. Watching the staff as she’s preparing dinner. I see ground beef is involved. Just as long as I get some of the bounty.
6:09 PM. Keeping an eye on the staff. She’s cutting up some broccoli. Okay, staff, for the record: if you want to make yourself sick with that, feel free and go ahead, but you’ll not be mixing it up with the meat, do I make myself clear?
6:41 PM. Dinner with the staff. She’s provided me with a plate of the beef, and is content to eat hers with broccoli. Just don’t blame me if you get sick tonight. I’ll try not to tell you I told you so as you’re throwing up.
8:25 PM. Lying in the living room while the staff sits on the couch reading. Do humans tolerate our behaviours merely because they will do anything to hear us purr?
11:38 PM. The staff is off to bed. Very well, staff, good night. Remember, there’s no need to set your alarm just so you can hit the snooze button every five minutes. Tomorrow’s the weekend, after all. Which means you are at my disposal and will wake up when I say so.