A Day In The Life Of A Cat

As always, the cat gets the last word in, and so here she is, in all her regal magnificence...

7:00 AM. Waking up at home. Slept well. Dreamed of vast fields of catnip and a big ball of string.

7:03 AM. Staring outside at the vastness of my domain. More light in the early morning sky than there was a couple of weeks back. But still plenty of snow. That’s to be expected this time of year. First, this is Canada, and we can expect cold wintery days throughout this month and into next month. Second, snow is a good thing. Especially when you don’t have to go out in it.

7:07 AM. Watching the flying lunches around the feeders. Licking my chops.

7:09 AM. Feeling impatient for my staff to get down here and see to my breakfast. Actually, I haven’t heard any movement from up there, and the alarm should have gone off by now.

7:10 AM. Have come upstairs and found the staff still in bed. Contemplating the appropriate tactic. Howling like a banshee? Sitting beside her and meowing until she wakes up? Pouncing on her?

7:11 AM. I have selected another option and have gotten up on top of my staff and am presently engaged in staring at her until she wakes up. Somehow humans can sense when they’re being stared at, even when they’re asleep. Except in horror movies, in which case they do things like go into dark basements after saying they’ll be right back and never see the deranged Avon saleslady behind them until it’s too late.

7:12 AM. The staff’s eyelids flutter open at the weight of me on her chest. She sees me staring her down. Yes, it’s morning. Yes, I’m hungry. Yes, it’s time for you to wake up. No, you cannot blow off work. Get to it, staff. I expect you downstairs inside of fifteen minutes.

7:14 AM. I have returned downstairs to await the staff’s arrival and my much overdue breakfast. After all, I have been awake for the better part of a quarter hour now, and I am famished.

7:18 AM. An examination of the calendar indicates that we’re due to have that pointless switch back to daylight saving time on the weekend. I don’t understand why. Switching clocks twice a year just throws the equilibrium of cats out of whack. It irritates the humans too, but the equilibrium of cats is much more important.

7:28 AM. I hear the distant barking of that annoying mutt from down the road. Obviously out for his morning run, barking like there’s no tomorrow, acting like his barking is a welcome thing to everyone for ten kilometres around him in every direction. Well, it’s not!

7:31 AM. The staff finally gets downstairs in a rush. Yes, well, staff, you have only yourself to blame for having that alarm clock within reach of your bed where you can hit the snooze button. Now then, it is quite important right about now that we start taking into consideration the pressing issues of the day. Such as my breakfast. As they say, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right there in a four way tie with lunch, dinner, and snacks. So then, I’ve been quite patient but it really is time for my breakfast to be seen to. So let’s get to it.

7:32 AM. Expressing my wishes for my breakfast as the staff fixes it. I do appreciate the milk, and really the meat is top rate, but would it kill you to wake up a half hour earlier and put the plate in the fridge for some pre-breakfast chill time? I like to eat my food off a slightly chilled plate. It adds just the right touch to the meal. It’s called ambience, staff. And if you woke up a half hour earlier and did that, you wouldn’t find yourself having to scramble to get out the door and head for that work place. Oh, and by the way, let’s just forego the usual field rations bowl thing that you do.

7:33 AM. The staff has put my breakfast down on the floor. The plate of chicken and bowl of milk are entirely acceptable. Despite my explicit instructions, the staff continues to put down a bowl of field rations too. I sigh, and set to work on the milk and chicken. I shall steadfastly ignore the field rations.

7:35 AM. Licking my chops, satisfied with my morning repast.  I shall leave my staff as she scrambles to eat hers fast. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t hit that snooze button, you know.

7:43 AM. Watching the staff head out the door to that work place she goes to. Reminding her with insistent meows to pick up some milk on the way home.

8:15 AM. Sitting on a window sill on the top floor, staring out at my domain. Movement out at the treeline. Instead of it being something entirely welcome like a deer- they love getting into my staff’s garden over the summer- it turns out to be that stupid dog from down the road.

8:16 AM. Hissing and howling and cursing the dog as he approaches the house through the snow. He notices me and gets that look of perpetual confusion on his face. An expression unfortunately all too common among dogs if you ask me.

8:17 AM. Telling off the dog with every creative curse word I know. He just seems befuddled.

8:18 AM. The dog withdraws from my property, back towards the woods. And don’t come back! Do you hear me? Don’t you ever come back here!

12:03 PM. Waking up from a nap. Feeling famished. Heading into the kitchen to address the matter, but only finding field rations available.

12:04 PM. My stomach wins the debate and I help myself to some of the field rations.

3:08 PM. Have discovered a stray ball of string and am currently engaged in the process of a complete unraveling of the ball. Because I’m a cat, and that’s a cat thing to do.

5:25 PM. The staff returns home and is puzzled to find red string strewn about everywhere. She takes one look at me and pouts. I walk up to her and start purring and delivering head bonks to her legs. It defuses irritation every single time.

6:31 PM. Dinner with the staff. She’s made apple and bacon pancakes. For me she’s cut them up into nice kitty cat bite sized pieces. This very much meets with my approval.

8:27 PM. Lying on my back in the living room, staring at the fireplace and its nice warm orange flames. Pondering the great mysteries of our time. Was Daylight Saving Time devised by a sadist?

11:30 PM. The staff is off to bed. Very well, staff, but do keep the door open. We can’t have a repeat of today, after all, with you hitting the snooze button. If I have to wake you up myself, I don’t want a closed door getting in my way.