Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better

Monday, March 7, 2022

A Day In The Life Of A Cat

And now it is time for the point of view of one of the highest beings walking the planet. Give her all the due respect and adulation she deserves, for she is a cat, and we are all lowly life forms in her eyes.

7:04 AM. Waking up. Slept reasonably well. Dreamed of vast fields of catnip at my disposal.

7:06 AM. A look outside from the back of the couch. Flying lunches around the feeders. Lots of snow. Weeks away from even the hint of catnip out there. 

Those who believe in the prognostication abilities of groundhogs are idiots.

7:09 AM. Waiting on the staff to get downstairs and see to my breakfast. After all, I lack the ability to open fridges and cupboards, and waiting on me is her purpose in life anyway.

7:12 AM. The staff finally comes downstairs. It's about time, you know. I would remind you that you have that work place to go to today, but first you have to see to my breakfast. Now then, staff, let's get to it, shall we?

7:14 AM. Reminding the staff that I do not want field rations. Milk and a plate of meat will do just fine, staff. Ideally you should be down here a half hour earlier and putting that plate into the fridge for the optimum enjoyment level of my breakfast, but you never seem to take that hint.

7:16 AM. The staff sets down my breakfast. The plate of tuna and bowl of milk of course meet with my approval. The bowl of field rations do not.

I sigh and set to work on my breakfast. I shall ignore the field rations and one of these days she might take the hint.

7:18 AM. Finished with my breakfast. Leaving the staff to finish hers. 

7:31 AM. Somewhere off in the distance I can hear the barking coming from that foul hound that lives down the road. 

7:40 AM. The staff is on her way out the door to work. I remind her not to forget to pick up some milk on the way home.

7:42 AM. Watching the staff's car depart. Very well then. What shall I spend my day doing? In between naps?

8:00 AM. The Weather Channel is on. They're talking about a winter storm they're calling Snowpocalypse Now coming up over the next four days.

Can't we all just treat a blizzard for what it is instead of assigning it evil names?

8:10 AM. Up on a windowsill looking into the back yard. Is that movement out at the treeline?

8:11 AM. Oh, this is unacceptable. It's that idiot dog. In my yard.

8:12 AM. The moron has finally noticed me. I'm hissing and howling and demanding he depart at once.

8:13 AM. Expressing my hostilities in the most direct way. The dog is staring at me in that perpetually confused way he stares at everything and everyone. 

I hate dogs!

8:14 AM. The dog finally leaves. 

Good riddance!

8:16 AM. Keeping an eye on the treeline in case that idiot dog decides to double back and annoy me again.

8:29 AM. It's going to take me all morning to feel less agitated. That dog is more annoying than a little brother if you ask me, and you are asking me.

I need a nap.

10:55 AM. Waking up from my nap. Feeling considerably better.

11:03 AM. Finished a reconnaissance from the windows of the exterior grounds. No fresh tracks in the snow outside, so that dumb mutt didn't come back.

I'm sure he's back home laughing his butt off.

11:12 AM. Feeling a bit peckish. Coming into the kitchen for some lunch.

Oh, wait. There's only field rations left.

11:15 AM. After much reluctance, I help myself to some of those field rations. 

5:38 PM. The staff arrives at home, toting some grocery bags. It's about time, staff. Were you aware the forecasters are calling an impending blizzard Snowpocalypse Now?

6:28 PM. Dinner with the staff. She's made pancakes with bacon. This meets with my approval. She's even cut up a plate into nice bite sized pieces for me. Very good, staff, very good indeed.

8:20 PM. Lying by the fireplace, warming my belly. Pondering the mysteries of life. Is the configuration of the universe one big ball of string?

11:22 PM. The staff is off to bed. Snow falling outside. Snowpocalyse Now has begun. Honestly, it's just a hundred centimetres forecast, not the end of the world.

Good night, staff. Just so you know, odds are you'll be snowed in tomorrow. And for the rest of the week.

Which gives you plenty of time to spoil me rotten.


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