And so it is time for the cat to have her say. She is one of the most supreme species walking the earth, so show her all the respect she demands and deserves.
7:04 AM. Waking up at home. Taking a big stretch. Slept exceptionally well. Dreamed of catnip. Lots of catnip.
7:07 AM. A look outside. Flying lunches pecking around on the lawn. No frost as of yet, but that'll come. Lots of things to do today, so little time to do it.
7:10 AM. Waiting on the staff to get downstairs and see to my breakfast.
Come on, staff. Priorities!
7:15 AM. She has five more minutes to come down here or else I have no choice but to go up there and give her a piece of my mind.
7:19 AM. The staff comes downstairs. It's about time, staff. I was about to go up there and yell at you.
7:20 AM. Following the staff into the kitchen. Reminding her of my expectations for breakfast. Now then, staff, no field rations. Are we clear on that? I don't want field rations. And would it kill you to wake up a half hour early and put a plate into the fridge? I've told you this many times before, but a pre-chilled plate makes for optimum dining experience.
7:22 AM. The staff puts down my breakfast. The plate of tuna and bowl of milk are approved by me.
The bowl of field rations is not.
7:24 AM. Have finished off breakfast. Completely ignored the field rations. Will let the staff have her breakfast in peace and quiet.
7:30 AM. Somewhere off in the distance I can hear the barking of that foul hound from down the road.
7:42 AM. The staff is on her way out the front door. Staff, if you're picking up groceries coming home, don't forget the milk.
7:45 AM. Watching the staff drive out the driveway in the car. Now then, what's on the agenda for today?
8:02 AM. Watching the weather channel. They're talking about the first day of fall coming up. When they start musing about pumpkin spice lattes, I'm outta here. Fortunately my staff has no taste for pumpkin spice lattes.
That I know of.
For all I know she's addicted to it but only buys it when she's away from home.
Note to self, smell her breath for anything that smells of cinnamon.
8:43 AM. Watching the news. They're talking about the Queen's funeral again, period of mourning and all that. I get it, but... but she liked corgis.
How majestic can you be if you like dogs?
9:12 AM. Musing on the state of the world, the weather, the availability of catnip.
I think a nap is in order. I've been awake two whole hours without one.
11:54 AM. Waking up. Slept well. Feeling like having a bite to eat.
11:57 AM. A thorough examination of the kitchen has confirmed that the only food out in the open is that bowl of field rations.
What to do, what to do....
11:58 AM. After much internal deliberation and debate, I have decided I'll have to make do and eat some field rations.
12:45 PM. Have decided to sharpen my nails on the scratching post.
12:47 PM. My scratches have unleashed the residual scent of catnip on the scratching post. This, in turn, has reached my nose.
Catnip frenzy in five, four, three....
1:38 PM. Lying on the floor in the living room after sprinting at top speed through every nook and cranny in the house.
A catnip craze does weird things to a cat.
5:23 PM. Woken out of a nap by the staff coming in the front door.
Oh, you're home.
Well, I don't think I broke anything while setting personal speed records for running through the house earlier, but you may want to do an inventory.
5:38 PM. Supervising the staff. Or to be more precise, su-purr-vising the staff. She's putting groceries away. I approve of the milk. I do not approve of yet another bag of field rations.
6:21 PM. The staff is finishing making dinner. Smells good, staff. What are we having?
6:32 PM. The staff has given me a plate of ground beef. This meets with my approval. She has added tomato sauce to hers and has mixed it in with spaghetti. You're welcome to it, staff. I'm sure that would be much too sloppy for me to try eating.
8:49 PM. Pondering some of the great mysteries of existence. Does the red dot really exist? I have doubts.
11:27 PM. The staff is off to bed. Good night, staff. Sleep well. But keep the door open.
I reserve the right to walk all over you at four in the morning for no reason at all.
That poor cat on the waxed floor! thank you for these.ReplyDelete
Hilarious!! Always hilarious!!!ReplyDelete
My three last an hour of being up before returning to napping once again. Oh to be a cat!ReplyDelete
Those naps are time well spent.Delete
Oh gosh! These make me want a dog. :-DReplyDelete
Oh I love cats.Delete
Yeah, Google's betrayed me that way before, too. Know just how he feels.ReplyDelete