Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better

Wednesday, September 12, 2018

A Day In The Life Of A Cat

And now it is time for the perspective of Her Imperial Grace, the cat...

7:02 AM. Waking up at home. Taking a big stretch. Slept quite well in the night. Dreamed of vast fields of catnip.

7:04 AM. On the back of the couch, peering out at the lawn. Flying lunches are busy pecking away. I am busy brooding and contemplating velocities and angles of ambush.

7:09 AM. Stealing a glance at the ceiling. Well, I’ve heard the staff up and about up there, so I know she’s awake. Come on, staff, how long does it take to get down here and get me fed?

7:12 AM. Pacing around in the kitchen. If I stalk around the perimeter of this room precisely twenty times, will that result in the staff appearing instantly?

7:20 AM. The staff finally comes downstairs. I deliver head bonks to her legs in greetings. It’s about time, staff, I was ready to go up those stairs and start meowing loudly at you. Now then, between you and I, it’s time for breakfast.

7:21 AM. Issuing instructions to the staff in the kitchen. Would it kill you to wake up a half hour earlier and put a plate in the fridge to chill? I’ve expressed to you on many occasions that I prefer having my meat on a slightly chilled plate. Obviously it wouldn’t do to put the plate into the fridge overnight, that would be too cold. But slightly chilled is just right. No, I am not high maintenance. While we’re at it, staff, why don’t we skip the field rations today?

7:23 AM. The staff has set down my breakfast. I approve of the bowl of milk and the plate of chicken. I am not impressed with the bowl of field rations.

7:24 AM. Digging into my chicken and milk. I shall ignore the field rations. 

7:26 AM. Finished with breakfast. Taking my leave into the living room so that my staff can have her breakfast in peace and quiet.

7:31 AM. Listening to the radio while sitting on the back of the couch, staring outside. Weather warnings for heavy rain and storms later in the day and in the night. Very well. Just as long as I’m not in it. Because there is no dignity in being a drenched feline.

7:34 AM. Venturing outside for a bit to take in the late summer air. I have plenty of time to get back inside before the staff goes off to that work place for the day.

7:43 AM. Opening my eyes after a brief reverie of half-dozing. Looking around. Wait a minute, how did the staff manage to leave and drive away without my taking note of it? Or was the car stolen last night and I just didn’t notice it?

7:45 AM. A quick inspection of the ground floor from the outside has been completed, thanks to jumping on window ledges. The staff is indeed gone for the day. Damn it! Locked out for the entire day. If it rains while I’m out here, I’m going to be quite put out.

7:46 AM. Distant barking from that annoying hound down the road. Foul mutt.

7:49 AM. Settling down on the deck. Okay, look, I could grumble all day about getting locked out, but hey, at least it’s not the dead of winter, it’s not too hot, and it’s not raining. Yet. I can make the best of a bad situation, just wait on my staff to get home, and yell at her later. So why not just settle in for a nap and see how much of the day I can idle away? 

Of course, if it starts pouring without warning, I’ll need to bolt for the nearest suitable cover. 

8:29 AM. Startled out of my slumber by the feeling of liquid falling all over me all of a sudden. I bolt upright, turn around, and see that foul mutt shaking water and mud off himself. And onto me. Less than four feet away. He seems to be smiling, as if he thinks this is funny. And then he turns and bolts for the treeline.

8:30 AM. Pursuing the foul mutt in a rage, hissing and roaring, totally furious. And he’s laughing.

8:31 AM. The annoying hound has retreated into the woods, barking as if all’s well with the world, thinking he got one over on me. One of these days, dog… when you’re least expecting it, that’s when I’ll get you. And you won’t think it’s funny.

8:40 AM. Have returned to the deck. Engaged in washing my wet fur. Sure enough there’s some mud mixed in with the water he shook all over me. Rotten dog.

9:02 AM. Have decided to take another nap. Settling on one of the patio chairs. Will dream of revenge.

10:57 AM. Waking up out of my nap. Assessing my surroundings. Well, the skies don’t look like rain, but it can’t be that far off. Just as long as it doesn’t happen while I’m stuck outside. Because since the winds are blowing in from the west, the overhang of the house isn’t going to shelter me from the rain. Maybe I should set up a secondary base of operations beneath the shed overhang as an alternative spot to retreat to.

12:06 PM. Feeling peckish. It occurs to me that if I was inside right now, and I wish I was, I would have access to those field rations I pulled my nose up to this morning. Ah, regrets. I’ve had a few. But all in all, I did it my way…

1:32 PM. Distant barking from that annoying hound. I assume the mailman is dropping off today’s mail. Does it not occur to your average dog that a mailman is just doing his or her job?

1:35 PM. Sitting on the front lawn, watching the mailman pull up to the mailbox in his car and leaving some mail for my staff. I meow an inquiry as to if he has any pepper spray, and if he does, he might consider using it on that annoying hound down the road just to teach him some manners.

3:36 PM. Feeling quite impatient. You know, it occurs to me that I should have gone over to see Mrs. McIntyre. She’s always good to visit, and spoils me rotten. Now I suspect it’s too late, what with my need to yell at my staff whenever it is she shows up.

4:13 PM. Still waiting on the staff to come home. Not happy one bit, what with that idiot dog ruining my morning, but at least it hasn’t rained yet. Weird. Usually around this point my day’s coming to an end, but I have this peculiar sensation that there’s more to tell. Almost as if somewhere there’s a writer trying to leave things at an unresolved status quo that will be continued in the next edition.

Oh, come on. That’s just silly.


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