And so once again it is time for the cat to have her say...
7:07 AM. Waking up at home. Yawning and stretching. Slept well. Dreamed of scratching the biggest scratching post of all time.
7:09 AM. Making my first observations out the living room windows of the day. Slight frost on the grass. Flying lunches out on the bird feeders. If there wasn’t a pane of glass between us, I would be stalking the whole lot of you right now.
7:12 AM. Staring up at the ceiling. I’ve heard movement up there, and I do know that the staff has that work thing to get to today, so she’ll be down shortly. Not a moment too soon, if you ask me, as I’m most anxious about getting breakfast.
7:14 AM. Musing that as much as it would have benefitted me to have had the staff come down early to put a plate in the fridge so that I could have that slightly chilled quality that I like so much, it’s more likely that her coming downstairs would have woken me up earlier than expected, which would have had me demanding breakfast all that much sooner. Life is quite a quandary, isn’t it?
7:17 AM. Watching the clock. Lighter than it was at this time two weeks ago, but then again, it’s not really this time as it was two weeks ago. Why human beings persist in changing the clocks and annoying us cats twice a year is a mystery. But then human beings are weird to begin with.
7:21 AM. The staff finally gets downstairs. I meow and give her legs a bonk or two with my head in greetings. You’re running late, staff. Now then, it’s time for you to see to my breakfast. I shall be in want of whatever meat you’ve got waiting. Chicken or tuna will suit me nicely. A bowl of milk would be quite welcome too, and please- no need for those field rations. I insist.
7:22 AM. Continuing to persistently meow at my staff as I issue breakfast instructions. We really need to get you into the habit of being up early, tip toeing downstairs, and putting a plate into the fridge a half hour early so that I can have that slightly chilled plate to have my breakfast served on. No, I am not high maintenance, why do you keep saying that about me?
7:24 AM. Settling into my breakfast. The staff has put down a plate of tuna and a bowl of milk. As usual, she’s also put down a bowl of field rations. Ah, staff, honestly, what am I going to do with you?
7:26 AM. Finished breakfast. I have deliberately ignored the field rations. Maybe if I keep doing that she’ll get the message. I shall leave the staff in peace, as she has her own breakfast to eat.
7:38 AM. Hearing the distant barking of that foul hound from down the road outside. Frowning.
7:44 AM. Seeing the staff on her way out as she heads off to that work place she keeps going to from Monday through Friday. If you happen to be stopping at the grocery store for anything on the way home, staff, don’t forget the catnip and milk.
7:47 AM. Sitting on the back of the couch, staring outside. Contemplating the meaning of existence. If the universe is a ball of string, who wound the string up into a ball?
7:56 AM. Tail twitching as I keep watch outside. There’s a squirrel on my property, digging around in the grass and nibbling away at things. I watch him closely. If I was outside right now, I would be stalking you ever so carefully. And you wouldn’t even know it until it was far too late.
8:05 AM. Movement at the treeline has caught my attention. That idiot dog is intruding on my property again. He hasn’t seen me though. He’s focused on the squirrel. One track mind, of course. Well, whatever it is that passes for his mind.
8:06 AM. And of course, just like a dog, that foul hound sprints out of the woods, barking his idiot head off. And of course the squirrel is up the nearest tree before the dog can even get to him. And of course the dumb mutt is still barking up a storm.
8:12 AM. Continuing to observe as the dog walks in circles around the tree, barking up at the squirrel, who has no interest in all at coming down off that branch. Maybe if I’m lucky, that dog will go around in circles so many times that he gets dizzy and feels sick.
8:17 AM. The dog continues to bark up at the squirrel. He still hasn’t noticed me watching. Look, you moron, you can’t climb a tree, and he’s not going to come down. Give up, go away, and don’t even think of intruding on my property again.
8:22 AM. The standoff continues. The squirrel continues to sit up in the tree, no doubt taunting the dog. Which I can relate to, as much as I might personally dislike squirrels. Taunting dogs is a service to the world if you ask me. And you are asking me. The dog can’t take a hint and give up.
8:31 AM. The barking continues outdoors. As I can’t sleep while barking is going on, I am presently being deprived of some valuable napping time. I find myself wondering, as I watch the perpetual standoff, if dogs ever suffer from laryngitis from too much barking.
8:47 AM. The dog finally appears to be giving up. He’s ceased barking, staring up at the tree as if mentally cursing the squirrel. He happens to look at the house, and finally sees me. I glare at him and give him the finger. He walks away. Stupid dog.
11:25 AM. Waking up from a nap. Slept well. It’s remarkable how well you can rest when you don’t have a foul hound barking his head off outside.
12:11 PM. After much reluctance, I help myself to some of the field rations. Well, it’s not like I can open the fridge doors myself, can I?
1:29 PM. Barking from down the road has interrupted my nap. Obviously the mailman must be delivering the mail, and as usual the dog seems to think the mailman is some kind of serial killer as opposed to just doing his job.
5:26 PM. Greeting the staff as she comes in the front door with a couple of bags. Did you remember the catnip?
6:36 PM. Dinner with the staff. She’s cut up some nice stewing beef for me. For whatever reason she’s put the rest into a casserole with potatoes and carrots. To each their own, staff.
11:38 PM. The staff is off to bed. Very well, staff. Good night. But do keep the bedroom door open. After all, you know how much I love running through the house at four in the morning from one room to another for absolutely no reason, and it’s quite annoying to encounter closed doors.