A Day In The Life Of A Cat

It is time once more for the perspective of the cat...

7:07 AM. Waking up at home. Slept exceptionally well. Dreamed of endless amounts of catnip.

7:10 AM. I am making an examination of my domain from the windowsill. Dawn is getting later and later by the day. Fall has come, and winter won’t be far behind that. The flying lunches are starting their journey south. At least those who do. Some of them stay around all winter, and for whatever reason, my staff seems to like to feed them.

7:14 AM. Pacing around on the living room floor. I am fully aware that this is the weekend and all, but I expect my staff to see to my breakfast post haste. After all, it’s been a full twelve hours since my last morsel of food, and I’m famished.

7:16 AM. Sounds from upstairs. Good, the staff is up and about. Breakfast shall be forthcoming.

7:22 AM. The staff comes downstairs. Well then, staff, good morning and hello. I have been expecting breakfast for some time, you know. The full fifteen minutes I have been awake. Now then, I’ve explained this to you many times, but I would prefer my breakfast on a slightly chilled plate, so would it have been such a bother for you to get up a half hour ago and put one in the fridge?

7:23 AM. Following the staff into the kitchen. Explaining my breakfast needs. And the milk should be set to the left of the plate for easy access. Oh, and would it kill you to not set down a bowl of field rations already? You know I don’t like them.

7:25 AM. The staff puts down my breakfast. A plate of chicken and a bowl of milk meet with my approval. For whatever reason she persists in putting down a bowl of field rations too. I dig into my breakfast and plan on ignoring the field rations.

7:28 AM. Have finished off the chicken and milk. Licking my lips. I shall leave the staff in peace.

7:40 AM. Sitting on the back of the couch staring outside. Distant barking from that irritating mutt from down the road. Which reminds me, I haven’t settled scores with that moron from his whole shaking water and mud onto me thing. 

7:42 AM. Inquiring with the staff as to if she’ll let me out. She obliges.

7:44 AM. Departing from the property and into the woods. Will start a reconnaissance run to see where that dog might be. I know from the range of his barks that he gets a lot of running in each morning. It’s likely that he’ll stop in to see his buddy Spike sooner or later. I don’t know why he can’t take some advice from Spike, who at least seems to understand how to behave properly around cats.

7:51 AM. Crossing paths in the woods with one of the area skunks. I greet him with a degree of caution- you don’t want to startle a skunk, after all- and we strike up a conversation.

7:53 AM. I speak with the skunk about the annoying hound down the road. He confirms that he knows the mutt, having had skunked him once some years ago. Ah, that’s very good. I’ve had a skunk do that to him too, but I know, it takes a lot out of you to do so, so I won’t ask you to do it this time. Besides, revenge is best inflicted personally.

8:04 AM. Have arrived at the farm where that moronic dog lives. Taking up a position up in a tree near the woods, with enough of a view of the house. I can stay here a good long while… bide my time, and wait… until it’s time to settle up some scores.

8:42 AM. I can hear the dog closing in coming home. Waiting and watching. 

8:43 AM. Watching the dog head into his house. Well, it’s a pleasant enough day, so I imagine he’ll be out again at some point. And when he does, I’ll wait for my opportunity.

11:31 AM. Feeling rather impatient. Come on, dog, what’s taking you so long to get back outside?

12:06 PM. Right about time it would be lunch. If I was at home. But instead of being at home, I’m up in a tree on surveillance duty waiting for an annoying hound to come out of the house. Maybe I should just go home.

1:37 PM. The irritating dog is let outside by his human. Instead of running off, he sits down on the deck… and then lies down. Okay, mutt. Start to get sleepy. Close your eyes and nap. And when you’re dreaming, that’s when I’ll strike.

2:40 PM. Have crept up the lawn and onto the porch. The dog is snoring right here before me, totally oblivious. More oblivious than usual. I raise a paw, unsheathe my claws, and take a swipe at his snout while hissing like a banshee. He jolts up to his feet.

2:41 PM. I glare at the befuddled mutt and inform him that I will dispatch a skunk to give him the ultimate skunking if he ever bothers me again, and ask how it feels to be rudely awakened out of a good sleep. Then I turn and walk away.

3:04 PM. Returning home, thoroughly pleased with myself. I see that the car is still in the driveway, so my staff hasn’t done anything like leaving the house without my express permission. I leap onto a windowsill and meow insistence that I be let back in. The staff obliges by opening the door and asking where I’ve been all day. Well, if you must know, I was settling scores and teaching that vile hound some manners.

3:06 PM. Having had helped myself to some of those field rations, with reluctance, I now settle down in the living room for a well-deserved nap.

6:32 PM. Dinner with the staff. She’s cut up some lamb into nice bite sized chunks for me. I don’t know why she insists on having Brussel sprouts with her meat, but then again, human beings can be very strange.

8:57 PM. Sitting in the living room while my staff reads. Musing on the great mysteries. Is there such a thing as an infinite ball of yarn?

11:28 PM. The staff is off to bed. Very well, staff. Have a good night, sleep well, but keep the door open. After all, I reserve the right to walk all over you at three in the morning and yell at you that it’s three in the morning and do you now know what time it is?