Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better

Wednesday, December 19, 2018

A Day In The Life Of A Cat

And now it is time for the point of view of Her Grace the Cat, Empress Of All She Surveys...

7:04 AM. Slowly waking up at home. Slept well, despite my dreamstate. Dreamed of Frosty The Snowman getting impaled on an icicle. I wonder what that means. Aside from the pure creep out aspect of a snowman coming to life. I mean, who writes these songs?

7:07 AM. On the back of the couch peering outside at the pre-dawn. Flying lunches around the feeder stations. Consider yourselves fortunate there’s a window between you and me. Because if there was not, you’d be in a world of trouble right about now.

7:11 AM. Glancing up at the ceiling. No sounds of moving around, and it’s a work day for the staff. I’d better get up there and yell at her.

7:12 AM. Sure enough, she’s hit the snooze button. Now do I wait until it goes off? No. I’ve come up here anyway, so I’ll just get to it and wake her up.

7:13 AM. Sitting on the bed, staring at my staff, whose eyes are shut. Debating if I should stare her into waking up or meow loudly. What to do, what to do…

7:14 AM. Issuing a high pitched wail to wake up the staff. She bolts upright. You’re welcome, staff. Don’t say I never do anything for you. Now then, get to it, or you’re going to be late. Oh, and there’s the whole I haven’t had my breakfast thing too.

7:19 AM. Patiently awaiting my staff’s return downstairs. I do hear that she’s up and about and showering and all, so I know she didn’t just go back to bed. She might well be grumbling about me, but if you didn’t hit the snooze button, I wouldn’t have had to do that. 

7:29 AM. The staff gets downstairs. It’s about time, staff. Are you aware of how late you are for my breakfast? 

7:31 AM. The staff provides me with my morning sustenance. The plate of tuna and bowl of milk meet with my approval. The field rations she persists in providing me with, however, do not. I dig into the tuna and resolve to ignore the field rations.

7:33 AM. Finished with breakfast. I shall let my staff rush through hers in peace.

7:35 AM. Staring outside. Distant barking from that annoying mutt down the road. He’s been at it for quite a few minutes, I think. Must have treed a squirrel or something. Well, unlike dogs, cats can climb trees. We’re just a little iffy on climbing back down.

7:41 AM. Bidding farewell to the staff as she leaves for the day. Don’t forget to pick up milk!

7:43 AM. Watching through the window as the staff pulls out of the driveway in her car. Now then, how do I occupy myself for the time being? It’s too bad the staff hasn’t put up the Christmas tree yet. I could have spent the day on climbing excursions.

8:10 PM. Watching the Weather Network. Extended forecasts indicate a white Christmas. Well of course, you moron, this is Canada. White Christmases are to be expected in most of the country. At least they haven’t brought back that forecaster who panics and tells people they’ll have to eat their dead. I wonder if he’s been released from the mental hospital yet.

8:37 AM. I settle down in front of the fireplace. A nap is in order if you ask me, and of course you are asking me. You can never stockpile too many of those.

10:58 AM. Waking up from my well deserved nap and stretching. Feeling a bit hungry.

11:02 AM. A thorough examination of the kitchen has yielded the irritating conclusion that all that’s out and about are those field rations. With much reluctance I set to eating some.

1:28 PM. Woken up from another nap by distant barking. A glance at the clock notes that the mailman must be down the road. And regular as clockwork, that idiot dog is barking at him.

3:25 PM. Looking outside. Snow falling. More and more of it. I hope this doesn’t delay my staff’s return. I expect to be spoiled rotten, after all, and delays in doing so always leave me feeling quite put out.

4:12 PM. I have pulled a book off the shelf and am engaged in reading. The staff will have to put it back later, because while a cat can take things off a shelf, putting them back up later is problematic. That, and that’s what the staff is for. Anyway, ‘twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. 

Because the cat had ended him.

5:27 PM. The staff comes in the front door. I walk over and greet her with head bonks and inquire as to if she remembered to pick up some extra milk.

5:34 PM. The staff has unpacked her groceries. I approve of the extra bags of milk, and the packs of catnip. Very good, staff, very good indeed.

6:07 PM. Supervising the staff while she makes dinner. Pancakes are on the menu. That’s good, I like pancakes. Don’t forget the bacon, staff.

6:38 PM. Having dinner with the staff. She’s cut up a pancake into nice bite sized portions for me. And of course there’s bacon in the mix. Quite commendable, staff. If only we could get you to stop with the field rations in the mornings, I’d be giving you perfect marks.

8:19 PM. Lying in the living room, warming myself up by the fireplace, pondering life’s great mysteries. If Santa was real, would he have a cat?

11:29 PM. The staff is off to bed. Good night, staff, but do keep the door open. After all, you know how I like to walk all over you at four in the morning. Don’t mind me. I’ll just be down here for awhile. Snooping through closets and sniffing those Christmas gifts you’ve already wrapped.


Comments and opinions always welcome. If you're a spammer, your messages aren't going to last long here, even if they do make it past the spam filters. Keep it up with the spam, and I'll send Dick Cheney after you.