And now it is time for the cat to have her say...
7:04 AM. Waking up at home. Slept exceedingly well. Dreamed of vast fields of catnip.
7:05 AM. An inspection of the pre-dawn exterior suggests that it is very cold out there today. A look at the thermometer confirms that impression. If my staff was of the inclination to park outside, she might find that she would have difficulties starting the car today, but she does hook the thing up inside the garage this time of year.
7:09 AM. Sounds from upstairs confirm my general impression that the staff is up and about and that therefore I don’t have to go upstairs and meow incessantly at her to wake up.
7:10 AM. I have turned on the television and tuned into the Weather Channel. For whatever reason, the channel has brought back that lunatic forecaster who keeps having winter panic attacks and predicting the end of times every time snow falls. You’d think by now they’d know better.
7:11 AM. And now he’s using terms like HypothermiaGeddon and Snowpocalypse to describe the forecast for the next few days, suggesting that none of us are going to survive. Someone yanks him away from the camera before he can keep up with his delusions.
7:12 AM. The anchor apologizes for her colleague’s behaviour. Yes, well, an apology is only good if you remedy the situation. And by remedying the situation that means correcting the problem- in this case no longer employing the services of a demented idiot who keeps advocating cannibalism every time we get fifteen centimetres of snow.
7:19 AM. Still waiting on my staff to come downstairs. Wondering if that idiot hound from down the road will be spending much time outdoors today. Not likely, but you never know.
7:23 AM. The staff comes downstairs. She takes a long look at the outside thermometer and shudders. Yes, staff, it really is that cold out there. First, I would prefer it if, when you leave, that you ensure I’m not in the path of an incoming draft when you open the door. Second, if you worked remotely from home, you wouldn’t have to go out into that kind of cold today. And third, it is time for my breakfast.
7:25 AM. Supervising my staff as she prepares my breakfast, explaining my requirements. Now then, staff, as I’ve said many times before, I do not have any need for those field rations you insist on providing. So let’s just keep it to the milk and the meat this morning, okay? And would it be such a trial to ask you to wake up a half hour early and put a plate in the fridge? The optimal dining experience for a feline is to have her breakfast plate slightly chilled. I know I’ve explained this to you many times before, and for whatever reason you never listen.
7:27 AM. The staff puts my breakfast down. The bowl of milk and plate of chicken meet with my approval. But she persists in adding a bowl of field rations as well. I sigh and start on the first two.
7:29 AM. Finished breakfast. I shall leave my staff to have her breakfast in peace. No doubt she’s pondering calling into the office and seeing if she can get out of coming in today.
7:30 AM. Distant barking from that foul mutt. Well, with things this cold it’s not terribly likely that he’ll come over here today to irritate me by walking on my property, so that’s a good thing, at the very least.
7:37 AM. Passing along instructions to my staff before she goes. Now then, staff, do remember to bring back some milk from the store on your way home tonight. Don’t even think of doing so before work, because if you leave the milk in your car all day, it’s going to freeze. And would it kill you to buy a couple more boxes of catnip? We’re down to three boxes.
7:38 AM. The staff unexpectedly opens the front door while I am still in the path of the incoming draft. I feel the cold air hit me like a sledgehammer and bolt away as fast as I can. That was not funny!
7:40 AM. Sitting on the back of the couch watching the staff pull out of the driveway in the car. Still feeling the cold. Well, I think a moment like this requires a good deal of time spent near the fireplace. Fortunately my staff does leave it on through the day.
10:05 AM. Waking up from a nap. My time by the fireplace has done me some good. Warmed me up considerably and put me right to sleep. But as I’ve always said, a cat can never stockpile too many naps.
10:09 AM. Examining the calendar indicates we’re in the last days of the month. Which means Groundhog Day is right around the corner. Which means that the humans are going to be preoccupied with the forecasting abilities of a grouchy rodent. Humans are weird, if you ask me, and of course you are asking me.
12:16 PM. Walking into the kitchen and feeling hungry. Unfortunately the only thing out in the open are those field rations I’ve been avoiding.
12:18 PM. After much reluctance, I help myself to the field rations.
12:35 PM. Watching the local noon news. The sportscast is on. They’re talking about that whole Super Bowl thing happening in a few days, showing footage of that Patriots coach who’s pretty much evil incarnate, like Emperor Palpatine reborn. And this guy’s the hero of countless fans in New England? Cats know if someone’s pure evil. Even dogs know it. And I know evil when I see it. Besides which, it’s a silly, pointless game that goes on for way too long.
12:37 PM. The commissioner guy is going on and on about the officials being more vigilant in their duties on field and not letting a repeat of the pass interference fiasco happen again. Whatever you say. Maybe the fiasco that happens at this big game will be something completely different, like both teams coming down with the measles at the same time and being unable to play. I wonder how many sports fans would be driven nuts by that.
2:41 PM. Currently engaged in an outright sprint to see how fast I can dash through every single room for absolutely no reason other than to upturn the scatter rugs. The only better time of day to do this is when my staff is present, so she can wonder if I’ve lost my mind.
4:27 PM. Waking up from a nap, looking at the clock. It’ll still be another hour before the staff comes home. Assuming her car starts at that work place. I don’t know if they’ve got a garage or anything there, having had never been there. We shall see. Well, she can always take a cab home otherwise. Because I will be requiring dinner.
5:26 PM. The staff arrives at home. Having had seen the arrival of the car in the driveway, I have had the good sense to make my way back to the vicinity of the fireplace and away from the draft coming in from the front door. I call a meow when she steps inside, but don’t move until the door is closed and a few seconds have passed. Cold air does have a way of lingering, after all.
6:32 PM. Dinner with the staff. She has cut up some lamb into nice bite sized chunks for me, while insisting on having hers with cauliflowers. Human beings can be such a peculiar species if you ask me, and of course you are asking me.
11:27 PM. The staff is off to bed. Very well, staff, good night, sleep well. But keep the door open. On the off chance that a frostquake goes off in the night, I might be obliged to take shelter beneath your bed. That, or jump up on top of you and scream at the top of my lungs.