A Day In The Life Of A Cat

As always, the cat has the final word. Show her the due respect, for like all cats, she is a superior life form to we lowly humans.

7:01 AM. Waking up at home. Taking a stretch and yawning. Slept well. Dreamed of undoing the world’s biggest ball of yarn.

7:03 AM. A look outside at the pre-dawn. Light snow. Birds already around the feeders. Oh, you flying lunches are lucky I’m not out there, because I would be stalking you right now.

7:06 AM. Looking up at the ceiling. Wondering when it might be ideal to go up there and yell at the staff to get up. Do I give her three minutes or go right now?

7:08 AM. I have decided to be cordial to the staff and let her take her time. After all, this is one of those work days she has, so she has to get up and get ready for the day. Unless of course she hit the snooze button. Why did people invent the snooze button anyway?

7:12 AM. Musing on the mysteries of life. When did the cat first turn a human into their servant?

7:17 AM. Listening to the sounds from upstairs. It shouldn’t take her too long to get down here. Had she slept through her alarm, after all, either I would have gone up there to meow a few yells, or I would have heard a sudden expletive from upstairs. She favours the use of damn. Something a bit more stringent if she’s slept a half hour late.

7:26 AM. The staff comes downstairs. It’s about time, staff, I was this close to going up and yelling at you. Now then, have you thought of breakfast? Because I have. It’s all I’ve thought about in the twenty-five minutes I’ve been awake this morning. That, and the feline meaning of life and the required velocity and approach angles to ambush a flying lunch.

7:27 AM. ….and another thing, staff. I don’t want to be seeing any field rations poured, do you understand what I’m saying? I don’t appreciate field rations, as I have explained to you many times before. Meat and milk is adequate for my breakfast needs. So in summation, ixnay with the rationsay, are we following each other? 

7:29 AM. Despite my repeated insistence, the staff has put down a bowl of field rations beside my bowl of milk and plate of tuna. I help myself to the latter two, and shall ignore the first.

7:31 AM. Finished with breakfast. I shall leave my staff to have hers in peace.

7:37 AM. Distant barking coming through the windows. That stupid dog from down the road out for his morning run. What an idiot.

7:43 AM. The staff is on her way out the door. I meow her a farewell, and a suggestion that she not forget the milk on her way home.

7:44 AM. Watching the staff pull out of the driveway in her car. Well, it’s my car, technically speaking, since this is my house and my staff, but the only time I’m in that car is when my staff has the audacity to take me to the vet, so I let her drive it.

7:51 AM. Brooding as I sit on a windowsill, gazing out at the vastness of my domain.

8:06 AM. Movement at the treeline has caught my eye. It’s that damned mutt intruding on my property again. I let loose a string of expletives and curses.

8:07 AM. The foul hound withdraws back into the woods. And don’t come back!

8:26 AM. Yawning. You know, I think a nap is in order. Oh, sure, I’ve been awake barely an hour and a half, but as I always say, you can never stockpile too many naps.

10:49 AM. Waking up. Slept exceedingly well. Feeling a bit hungry.

10:50 AM. Staring at bowl of field rations, which is the only food out and about in the kitchen. Deciding whether or not I should eat it or not. Would it kill my staff to put out a second bowl of meat in the morning before she left for work? Oh, well, I’m hungry now, so let’s do something about that.

1:34 PM. Watching the mailman drop things off at the mailbox and drive away. No barking from down the road, so I imagine that dumb dog was trapped indoors and missed the chance to yell at the mailman.

4:21 PM. Waking up from another nap. Glancing at the clock. Damn, it’ll still be an hour before the staff gets back home.

5:28 PM. The staff steps back in, carrying a bag of groceries. Well, hello staff. It’s about time.

5:30 PM. An inspection of the groceries discovers that she’s bought milk and some meat. I approve of both, staff, but tell me, where is the catnip? Are you aware we’re down to two boxes of it in the pantry? Because I assure you, I keep track of these things.

6:38 PM. Dinner with the staff. She’s been kind enough to cut up some beef into nice kitty bite sized pieces for me. I don’t get why she insists on having cauliflower with hers.

8:41 PM. Lying on the couch beside the staff, who’s reading. I’m on my back, inviting her to give me a belly rub. She’s not taking the bait. Come on, staff, don’t you trust me? Would I do something like claw you if you rubbed my belly more than three times?

Don’t answer that.

11:27 PM. The staff is off to bed. Very well, staff, sleep well. But do keep the bedroom door open. I like coming up there at four in the morning and sitting there, watching you sleep, willing you to wake up just so that you can be freaked out by my staring at you.

A Day In The Life Of A Dog

It is time once again for the perspective of the dog and the cat. As always, the dog has the first say, before he gets distracted.

7:03 AM. Waking up at home. Yawning and stretching. Still a bit dark out there. And here we’ve still got the better part of a month before the first day of winter.

7:06 AM. Peering out the living room windows at the semi darkness. Snow on the ground. Birds around the feeders. Raring to get out there, but priorities must come first. Breakfast is essential for all good dogs like me. And I am a good dog. A very good dog.

7:08 AM. Waiting on the human to come downstairs and see to my breakfast. After all, I can’t open the pantry door, as often as I’ve tried it. Damn you, evolution, not giving us opposable thumbs! Oh well, that’s why we’ve got humans around. That and giving us belly rubs. Because I like belly rubs. Oh yes I do…

7:12 AM. ...And I like strolls through grassy meadows too. And snowy fields. And chasing squirrels, because that’s both fun and a service to the world, since as we all know, squirrels are evil. And I like chewing on stew bones and destroying the latest squeaky toy my human brings home…

7:15 AM. ....And how can I forget mentioning how much I like riding in the car? Except when the ride involves a trip to the vet. Because as we all know, vets are evil. 

7:21 AM. The human comes downstairs. I wag my tail furiously. Good morning, human! Fine day, isn’t it? It’s the kind of day that makes me want to go out and chase squirrels. But before that, I need some quick energy for the day, because it’s been nine whole hours since I ate, and I’m famished. Okay then, how about we see to breakfast?

7:23 AM. Watching the human as she pours me a big bowl of kibbles. Oh boy oh boy oh boy…

7:24 AM. Licking my chops after finishing off breakfast. Seven seconds off my all-time quickest consumption of the morning meal.

7:27 AM. Asking the human if she might kindly let me out the back door. After all, I’ve got things to do, people to see, squirrels to chase…

7:29 AM. Out the back door and heading on my run. See you later, human!

7:36 AM. Running through the back fields, barking my head off, happy as I can be. You know, I could only be happier if I found out that the vet and the mailman died in a head on collision this morning out on the highway. I wonder if that would be big enough to make the news…

7:43 AM. Stopping in to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hello, Spike!

7:45 AM. Spike and I have finished greeting each other in the customary dog style and are catching up on things. He informs me that he saw a squirrel outside his house this morning, but his humans were still in bed, and he didn’t want to bark. Spike relates that it took great mental discipline to refrain from barking. Well, I don’t know, Spike, I mean, you might be able to do that, but nothing could stop me from barking my head off under such circumstances.

7:51 AM. Spike and I discuss the deepening cold. I think it’s going to be a long winter this time out, Spike, and it’s not even officially winter yet. Well, time will tell.

7:54 AM. Spike and I go our separate ways, promising to keep each other updated on movements of the enemy via the usual barking call-line. 

8:06 AM. Stopping at the property where the cranky cat lives. Having a look around her property. No sign of her human’s car. But there she is, in a window, glaring at me. Oh, come on, what have I ever done to deserve that kind of hostility? Aside from repeatedly barking her out of a sound sleep?

8:07 AM. Even at this distance, I can see that the cat must be hissing obscenities at me. Discretion being the better part of valour, I withdraw myself from the scene. 

8:19 AM. Returning home. Barking to alert the human to my presence. It is, Loki! Annoyer of Mailmen and Chewer of Slippers!

8:22 AM. The human has let me back inside, but only after a vigorous application of the Towel of Torment. Come on, human, I didn’t roll around in that much snow. Well, I did, but that’s beside the point.

12:06 PM. Left to my own devices at home. The human went off to town to do some grocery shopping, and I am left to guard the house. I see two problems with this situation. First, if she’s not back by the time the mailman comes, I won’t be able to bark up a storm at him. And second, and more importantly, it’s lunchtime and I have nobody to mooch from.

1:32 PM. Glaring out the front window as the mailman drops off some mail at the box and drives away. Barking viciously. How dare you show up while I’m inside and unable to come out and bark at you!

1:53 PM. Looking outside when my eyes fall upon movement at the base of one of the bird feeders. It’s a squirrel! I start barking my head off.

1:55 PM. Continuing to bark, but to no avail. The squirrel is sitting on the windowsill outside, alternating between staring at me and laughing his ass off.

4:09 PM. The human returns home. I express my frustrations about not being able to bark at mailmen, not being able to chase that damned squirrel, and not having had any lunch.

6:38 PM. Dinner with the human. She’s cut up some nice stewing beef for me. For whatever reason she likes having hers with sprouts. I don’t know why, but humans are a strange kind of creature.

11:25 PM. The human is off to bed. Good night, human, sleep well. I shall remain on guard down here in case that damned squirrel decides to peek inside at four in the morning. In which case I shall be barking up a storm loud enough to wake the dead.