A Day In The Life Of A Cat

7:01 AM. Waking up at home. Strange dreams. I was in a field of catnip, but instead of tasting like catnip, it all tasted like candy canes.

7:04 AM. An examination of the exterior from the back of the couch indicates flying lunches out around the feeders. It also indicates fresh snow in the night. Well, we can’t have that delaying our staff from getting out to work. After all, we’re nearly out of milk.

7:12 AM. Waiting on the staff to get downstairs and start on my breakfast. Fortunately I hear her up and about upstairs, which is a good thing. She hasn’t ignored her alarm clock today. I shall bide my time and be patient with all the elegance and grace one expects of a higher being like myself. Because I am a higher being. 

7:18 AM. Pacing back and forth on the living room floor. Come on, staff, what’s taking you so long?

7:23 AM. The staff finally comes downstairs. It’s about time, staff, I was about to send a search party after you. And by search party I mean me.

7:24 AM. Explaining to the staff my requirements for a substantial breakfast. Now then, as I have told you many times before, I really do not require field rations. And yet you keep pouring them into a bowl for me. It is entirely sufficient to have milk and meat set out for me. And honestly, would it kill you to wake up a half hour earlier so that you could put my plate in the fridge? I’ve also explained to you that the ideal dining experience is to have my meat on a slightly chilled plate. And despite what you might be thinking, I am not a high maintenance cat. I just like having things the way I like having them.

7:26 AM. The staff puts my breakfast down on the floor. The milk and plate of tuna meet with my approval. The bowl of field rations do not. I pass on the field rations and get to work on the milk and tuna.

7:29 AM. Finished my breakfast. I shall leave my staff to have hers in peace.

7:36 AM. Sitting on the back of the couch, staring out into the day. Distant barking starting up. It’s that foul hound from down the road. 

He sounds agitated. 

Good.

7:39 AM. The staff is on her way out to that place she calls work. I remind her to pick up some milk on the way home. 

7:41 AM. Watching the staff depart in her car for the day. Musing on how to spend the day. Obviously naps are in order. As I always say, you can never have too many naps.

7:47 AM. The barking continues from off in the woods. Yes, that idiot mutt does sound annoyed.

7:58 AM. The barking seems to have abated. Maybe the hapless dog has figured out that whatever it is he chased is out of his reach and he’s giving up. Just as long as he doesn’t show up around here. Because if he does, I will be quite displeased.

8:07 AM. Watching the weather channel. At least they’ve gotten rid of that forecaster who would panic every time a snowflake fell. But now they’re talking about how in a few days it’ll be time for the Santa tracker from NORAD. Come on, you’re adults. You know and I know and everyone else knows that Santa isn’t real. Why are you wasting time going on about Santa trackers? And doesn’t NORAD have more important things to do?

10:39 AM. Waking up from a nap. Taking a big stretch. Debating whether or not I should get up. On second thought, maybe more napping is in order.

12:15 PM. Waking up again. Heading over to the kitchen as I’m feeling a bit hungry. Coming face to face with the only food that’s out in the open. That bowl of field rations.

12:16 PM. After much reluctance, I help myself to some of the field rations.

1:28 PM. Hearing the distant barking of that foul hound from down the road. I take it the mailman is on time as usual.

2:03 PM. I do some of my routine sharpening of claws at the scratching pole. In doing so, I release some residual scent of catnip from the carpet… and with that, I find myself descending into a catnip frenzy, during which I cannot be held accountable for what I’ve done.

4:13 PM. Waking up from a nap. Looking around. Well, it appears I’ve murdered a Christmas ornament on the tree, have upended two scatter rugs, and have knocked over three nutcrackers. Why my staff likes nutcrackers is beyond me. I mean, the things look creepy as hell…

A catnip frenzy makes a cat do strange things.

5:27 PM. The staff arrives home. She’s carrying a bag of milk and another bag of groceries. This meets with my approval. She notices the things I’ve done during my catnip frenzy. In my defense, staff, it was the catnip. Don’t narc on me.

I walk up and give her a head bonk on the legs and start purring. She responds by giving me a scratch behind the ears. Works every time.

5:32 PM. The staff is setting the nutcrackers back up while I watch. I’ll say this for my staff. She may have a fondness for nutcrackers, which I don’t get. But at least she has better taste than to buy one of those Elf on a Shelf things.

6:07 PM. The staff is preparing dinner. It appears to be pancakes tonight. With bacon.

6:28 PM. Dinner with the staff. She’s cut up a couple of pancakes for me. The bacon is particularly appreciated. You know, staff, all we have to do is get you to stop feeding me field rations and I’d rate your cuisine skills as higher.

8:33 PM. Sitting in the living room, staring at the Christmas tree. Wondering why human beings put things like this up in the house, things that we are naturally given to climb, and then protest when we start climbing them.

11:29 PM. The staff is off to bed. Very well, staff. Good night. Sleep well. I’ll be down here, knocking nutcrackers over again from time to time. And for the record, it will be in self defense.