And now it is time for the cat to have her say on all matters of utmost importance....
7:06 AM. Waking up at home. Taking a big stretch and yawning. Slept well. Dreamed of finding the biggest field of catnip I’ve ever seen. No, I do not have a problem, why do you ask?
7:09 AM. Making an inspection from the windowsill of the grounds. Birds out there pecking away at the grass. Oh, sure, enjoy it now, but you and I and all those people out there now that winter is coming. Yes it is, with every single passing day we get one day closer to it.
7:13 AM. Stealing glances up at the ceiling. I’ve heard sounds from upstairs, so I know the staff is awake and accounted for, but still, I am expecting breakfast post haste. She should just consider herself lucky I don’t make a habit of walking all over her at four in the morning.
Very often, anyway.
7:16 AM. Pacing back and forth on the back of the couch, listening to the sound of the shower upstairs. Come on, staff, hurry up!
7:27 AM. The staff finally comes downstairs. Staff, do you realize I have been awake a full twenty-one minutes now and I still haven’t had breakfast? Just between you and me, I think it’s time we remedy that, post haste.
7:28 AM. ….and honestly staff, how many times do I have to explain the no-field rations provision? I keep telling you over and over and over again, and day after day, you keep providing field rations. Now then, let’s get to it. A bowl of milk and a plate of meat would suit me nicely. Chicken or tuna, whichever works as well as the other.
7:29 AM. The staff has set down a bowl of milk and a plate of chicken. This meets with my approval. To my continued dismay, she persists in setting down a bowl of the field rations. I sigh and dig into the chicken and milk. I shall ignore the field rations. Perhaps this will finally get the point across.
7:31 AM. Finished with that portion of breakfast that I wanted. I shall leave the staff to see to her breakfast in peace and quiet.
7:42 AM. Meowing farewell to the staff as she heads out the door for that work place she goes to every day. Don’t forget to bring some catnip home, staff! We’re down to one more box!
7:51 AM. Nice and warm here, sitting on the windowsill in the morning sun. Just the sort of thing that makes a cat want to take a nap. Oh, sure, I haven’t even been awake a full hour yet, but since when did that stop me before?
8:32 AM. Startled out of a contented dozing moment by the sudden sound of a loud bark outside. I spring up and look around. It’s that foul hound from down the road, just standing there on my lawn, wagging his tail, grinning like an idiot. I start hissing and howling and cursing him like a sailor who just broke into the whiskey.
8:33 AM. Watching the dog walk away, obviously pleased with himself. Hey! I wasn’t done yelling at you! Get back here, you mangy mutt! You hear me? Nobody wakes me up like that and lives to see the winter!
8:42 AM. Stewing and infuriated. My perfectly fine peace and quiet morning disrupted by that vile mutt. And he wonders why I don’t like him. He’s probably off laughing to himself right now, thinking he’s hilarious.
8:51 AM. Pondering if I can hire a ferret goon to sort out that dog once and for all.
9:03 AM. Musing to myself as to options. When it comes down to it, revenge is really a dish best served cold. And when the other party has no idea that it’s coming. So it might not be today, it might not be tomorrow, but one day, that dog will have his guard down. And that’s when I’ll be there.
11:38 AM. Waking up from a nap. This time it wasn’t because of the barking of a foul hound.
12:02 PM. Watching the Weather Channel. That paranoid specialist is back again, and this time he’s going on and on about dust devils picking up your beer bottle off your deck chair. I thought they institutionalized this guy in the winter when he tried to start a panic over a snowstorm and urged people to go all Donner Party to survive. Not exactly his finest hour if you ask me, and of course you are asking me.
1:29 PM. Barking from down the road. That foul hound must be barking at the mailman. Come on, honestly, the guy’s just doing his job. What is it about that which seems so difficult for a dog to grasp?
3:54 PM. Waking up from another nap. Looking at the clock. Rats, the staff won’t be back yet for another hour and a half. Can I sneak in another nap?
4:29 PM. After some attempts at more napping have come to nothing, I have settled at the piano and am playing a masterpiece concerto. I call it Piano Concerto #26: Ode To A Hairball. Humans, not understanding cat music at all, would wonder who’s making that racket.
5:10 PM. Sitting on the couch, staring outside, waiting for my staff to get home. Feeling impatient.
5:28 PM. The staff finally shows up at home. I meow greetings and demand to know if she brought any catnip home.
5:32 PM. An inspection of the grocery bags determines that the staff failed to bring home catnip.
6:41 PM. Dinner with the staff. She has been considerate enough to give me a plate of stewing beef. That suits me quite well.
8:50 PM. Lying in the living room. Ignoring the staff, who’s wrapped up in a book. Contemplating the great mysteries of existence. What came first, the cat or the purr?
11:33 PM. The staff is off to bed. Very well, staff, good night. Do keep the door open, though. If I happen to feel like walking all over you at four in the morning, I don’t much like being inconvenienced by a closed door.