6:42 AM. Waking up at home. Taking a big stretch and yawning to start the day. Slept exceedingly well. That should hold me for an hour or two until my next nap. After all, a cat can never stockpile too many naps.
6:45 AM. Sitting on the back of the couch, gazing out at my domain. Brooding to myself on the meaning of life. Watching the flying lunches peck at the grass. Calculating required ground velocity and approach angles if I happen to get outside. Well, that’s a hypothetical, because let’s face it, the staff is going to be off to work today and I don’t want to be stuck outside for hours on end waiting for her to get back home.
6:58 AM. Sounds from upstairs. The shower is on, so I know my staff is awake. Unless of course she turned on the shower and then decided to get another five minutes worth of sleep. Which, first of all, is sneaky and underhanded. Second, it’s a waste of water, and third, it’s a surefire way to turn five minutes of extra sleep into a half hour.
7:04 AM. Focused on sounds from upstairs. Well, the shower’s off and footsteps are heard, so that settles that.
7:16 AM. Greeting the staff as she comes downstairs with a head bonk to the legs. Well, staff, good morning. A fine day, isn’t it? Now then, I must pursue this matter with the utmost seriousness, because this is a vital matter. Have you put any thought into my breakfast to start the day? Because since I’ve been awake, I have scarcely thought of anything else.
7:18 AM. …and just so you understand, staff, I do not want any field rations. Are you listening, staff? Because this is important. I have stressed this to you many times, and many times you have continued to ignore my explicit wishes and put down field rations. You know, if you got up earlier, you could come downstairs and put my plate in the fridge for a little while. I’ve also told you that many a time. There is a taste advantage to food placed on a plate that has been lightly chilled for a half hour or so. It just tastes better, don’t ask me to explain why, just accept that it is. Oh, and for the record, I wouldn’t mind if you were generous on the milk today…
7:19 AM. The staff puts down a bowl of milk and a plate of chicken for me. She also sets down a bowl of field rations. I look at the field rations, turn up my nose, and get to work on the first two aspects of my breakfast, which meet to my exacting standards.
7:21 AM. Finished with my breakfast. At least those elements that meet with my approval. I shall ignore the field rations and leave the staff to have her breakfast in peace.
7:29 AM. Distant barking. The sounds of that idiot hound from down the road on his morning ramble. Just as long as he doesn’t come here, because if he does, I swear by all that is feline, there will be hell to pay.
7:42 AM. Bidding farewell to the staff as she heads out the door for her car. Now then, staff, tell me, if you’re going to be stopping to do some shopping before you come home, can you remember to pick up some extra catnip? I’m just saying, we can never have too much catnip in the house.
7:44 AM. Watching the staff pull out of the driveway in her car. Well, my car technically speaking, since I own the staff, the house, and everything else, but she gets to drive it.
8:23 AM. The Weather Network is on. There’s a special advisory for our area- thunderstorms this evening. Well, that being the case, the staff had best get home early, because after all, we can’t be inconvenienced by something like a power outage that prevents her from making dinner.
10:49 AM. Waking up from a nap. Feeling fully charged and refreshed and ready to face the day for the second time today.
11:21 AM. Sprinting through every room in the house at top speed for absolutely no reason whatsoever. It’s a cat thing. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.
12:00 PM. Having had finished all that sprinting and upturning scatter rugs, I’m feeling a bit hungry. I think I must have a look at the kitchen and see what’s what.
12:01 PM. My reconnaissance of the kitchen has determined that the only food out in the open happens to be those field rations. Well, given my state of hunger, I simply have no choice but to consume them, no matter what I might personally think of them.
1:32 PM. Woken up out of a sound sleep by more distant barking. Glancing at the clock. The mailman must be on his rounds over there at the moment, and the buffoon mutt is barking up a storm.
3:39 PM. Waking up from another nap. Taking a big stretch. Another examination of the clock. Blast, it’ll be the better part of two hours before my staff is back home.
4:10 PM. Sitting on the back of the couch, staring outside onto the lawn, where a rabbit is busy ignoring me and chewing on the grass. Just as long as you stay away from the staff’s flowerbeds. She gets ornery about wildlife feasting on her flowers.
5:25 PM. The staff returns home. I greet her with head bonks to the legs and meows of inquiry as to catnip purchases.
5:30 PM. Inspecting the contents of bags while the staff unpacks her groceries on the kitchen table. Staff, where’s the extra catnip?
6:33 PM. Dinner with the staff. Bacon pancakes hit the spot if you ask me, and of course you’re asking me.
7:56 PM. Distant rumbling off to the west. Storm’s coming. Staff? Did you secure that tacky pink flamingo you have in the back yard? And while we’re at it, we really need to have a discussion about your tastes, because that pink flamingo is not in good taste.
9:01 PM. Thunder and lightning outside. I am as stoic as ever. My staff is taking it all in stride, though I note she hasn’t bothered to have a flashlight close at hand just in case the power goes out. Well, staff, if it does, just don’t trip over me in the dark.
10:29 PM. The storm has passed us by. Too dark to see outside, so I don’t know if the pink flamingo made it through the storm, but I wouldn’t complain if it got deposited over on the other side of the ridge. Particularly if it smashed the front windshield of the vet’s car.
11:37 PM. The staff is off to bed. Well then, staff, good night. Sleep well. May your dreams be pleasant ones. But just in case the storm comes back, keep the door open. I may be upstairs meowing minute to minute updates to you from the scene on the storm’s track.