As always, the cat has the last word in these matters. Pay her the respect that a supreme life form deserves.
7:02 AM. Waking up at home. Slept exceptionally well. Dreamed of vast fields of catnip.
7:06 AM. Sitting on the back of the couch, gazing out at the vastness of my domain in the pre-dawn. More snow has fallen in the night. Flying lunches around the feeders already. I shall content myself in watching them for the moment. After all, breakfast is coming, whenever my staff gets downstairs.
7:10 AM. Walking around on the piano keys in an effort to get my staff downstairs. She might think it sounds like feline nonsense. I can tell you that my musical abilities are that of a virtuoso concert pianist.
7:14 AM. I have heard enough sounds upstairs to know that my staff is now awake and about. I leap off the piano and await her presence downstairs.
7:19 AM. Patiently waiting on the staff. Looking around the living room. Wondering if I should make a final excursion up the Christmas tree. I mean, at some point in the not so distant future the staff will be taking it down, right? And I was only up it three times this holiday season.
7:24 AM. The staff comes downstairs and mutters about closing up the piano at night. Well, you could, but then I’d have to serenade you with cat yowls at four in the morning. Which I’m inclined to do anyway, but that’s beside the point. The real point that you and I must focus on right now is seeing to my breakfast. Because as they always say, breakfast is the most important part of the day. Now then, let us start discussing breakfast, shall we?
7:25 AM. Furthermore, staff, would it kill you to wake up a half hour earlier and put a plate in the fridge? I’ve told you many times that I like having my breakfast on a slightly chilled plate. That means putting it in the fridge a half hour before my optimal breakfast time. Because putting it in the fridge the night before will make it too cold, and we can’t have that. And by the way, staff, I don’t want to be seeing any of those field rations you insist on putting out every morning, are we clear about that?
7:27 AM. The staff has put down my breakfast for the morning. A plate of chicken and a bowl of milk meet my expectations. Unfortunately she also persists in setting down a bowl of field rations as well. I shall ignore the last and get to work on the first two.
7:29 AM. I have finished the milk and chicken, and am licking my lips with satisfaction. I shall let the staff have her breakfast in peace and quiet.
7:42 AM. Hearing the distant barking of that annoying hound from down the road outside. What part of shut up is too complicated for that dog?
7:45 AM. The staff is on her way out the door. I remind her to bring milk home from the store, because that’s one of those things we can’t do without.
7:47 AM. Watching the staff pull out of the driveway in the car. Well then, what shall I do today? Aside from naps, because you can never stockpile too many of those.
8:06 AM. Surveying the living room from the top of Mount Evergreen, as I’ve taken to calling the Christmas tree. I’ve only knocked two ornaments off.
10:49 AM. Waking up from a nap. Slept well. Feeling hungry.
10:51 AM. An examination of the kitchen determines that the only food out in the open happens to be those field rations. With much reluctance, I help myself to some of them. The things I do because my staff refuses to leave the fridge door open.
11:01 AM. I have returned to the piano where I commence playing my signature composition Feline Scherzo For Piano. I make Chopin look like an amateur.
12:13 PM. Walking back into the kitchen and helping myself to more of those field rations. I shall have to have a word with the staff about this sometime soon. Why not get one of those automatic timers that release a morsel of canned tuna, for instance, every hour?
1:31 PM. Woken up out of a good nap by the muffled distant barking of that idiot dog from down the road. A glance at the clock confirms that the mailman must be out and about and the mutt is barking at him again.
4:18 PM. Waking up from my latest nap and glancing at the clock. Great, it’ll still be a full hour before the staff gets home. Hopefully she hasn’t forgotten the milk.
5:28 PM. Greeting the staff when she walks in the front door toting a couple of grocery bags. Did you remember the milk, by chance? Because if not, you’ll have to go back out and get it.
5:30 PM. An inspection of the groceries confirms that milk has been purchased. This pleases me, because you can never have enough milk around if you ask me, and you are asking me. So then, staff, have you given any thought to dinner?
5:35 PM. The staff takes note of the ornaments dropped on the floor and looks at me. Yes, well, at least they didn’t break. Are you going to be putting the tree away tonight?
6:41 PM. Dinner with the staff. She’s made bacon pancakes, which I approve of. And she’s been nice enough to cut one up into nice kitty cat sized bites for me.
8:28 PM. Supervising the staff while she gets Christmas decorations put away. I’d help, staff, really I would, but I’m much better being a supervisor. Or su-purr-visor.
9:14 PM. The staff has finished with the Christmas decorations. It hasn’t occurred to her that the Elf On The Shelf is missing. I wonder how long it’ll take her to find its remains under the couch.
11:29 PM. The staff is off to bed. Good night, staff, sleep well, but do keep the door open. After all, you know how much I like walking all over you at four in the morning for no reason at all.