And now it is time for the perspective of that highest of species walking the earth: the cat.
7:10 AM. Waking up at home. Slept exceedingly well. Dreamed of chasing mice.
7:13 AM. A look outside at the pre-dawn. Flying lunches at the feeders. The thermometer shows that it's, to use a British expression, bloody cold. I am definitely staying inside today.
7:16 AM. Waiting on the staff to get downstairs and see to breakfast. It would be better had she been up a half hour ago and put a plate in the fridge for pre-breakfast chilling. But she doesn't listen to my suggestions in that regard, and thinks that a few more minutes under the covers is more important.
7:28 AM. The staff comes downstairs. It's about time, staff. I was about to do the unthinkable and call in a St. Bernard to go search for you. Either that, or just go upstairs myself and meow at you.
7:30 AM. Instructing the staff on how I want my breakfast. She never listens. I mean, I enjoy the meat and the milk, but for some reason she persists in giving me field rations too.
7:32 AM. The staff sets down a plate of meat and a bowl of milk. Both meet with my approval. A bowl of field rations on the side does not meet with my approval.
I sigh and set to work on what I want. I shall ignore the field rations.
7:34 AM. Finished with my breakfast. I shall leave the staff to hers.
7:36 AM. On the back of the couch staring out the window. Off in the distance I can hear the barking of that idiot dog from down the road.
7:43 AM. The staff is on her way to that work place she goes to. As opposed to waiting on me hand and foot, but such things I must endure. Staff? A reminder that we're low on milk.
7:47 AM. Watching the staff's car depart. Well, it's my car really, since this is my house and everything in it belongs to me, including the staff, but I don't drive the thing, and the only time I'm in it is when the staff persists in taking me to the offices of that horrible monster otherwise known as the vet.
10:02 AM. Looking outside and seeing deer outside foraging below the bird feeders. What is it about bird seed that they seem to like?
10:04 AM. One of the overgrown mice looks up and notices me. Yes, Bambi, if I were out there right now I'd be stalking you.
10:16 AM. Well, that's enough of deer watching. It's time for a well deserved nap.
12:31 PM. Waking up from my nap. Feeling a bit hungry.
12:33 PM. Oh, yes. All that's left is that bowl of field rations.
Damn it.
12:35 PM. After much reluctance I eat some of the field rations.
12:43 PM. Note to self: speak with the staff about getting a machine that dispenses meat and milk on demand for me.
1:03 PM. The Weather Channel has a forecaster talking about a polar vortex and keeping warm. As if it wasn't already obvious enough.
At least it's not that insane guy who used to tell people they'd have to cannibalize each other whenever there was five centimetres of snow in the forecast.
I wonder what lunatic asylum he's in these days.
1:37 PM. I think it is time for another nap. One can never stockpile too many naps as far as I'm concerned.
3:55 PM. Waking up from my nap. Slept exceedingly well.
3:59 PM. An examination of the kitchen finds no food. Not even field rations. Because I ate all of them.
You know, with my derision where field rations are concerned, you'd think I'd make a point of not eating them so the staff would get the hint.
5:29 PM. The staff arrives at home. I look her way as she brushes snow off her coat.
Did you remember the milk?
5:35 PM. Supervising the staff while she puts away the contents of two bags of groceries. Milk, very good. Catnip. Even better.
6:43 PM. Dinner with the staff. She's made steak and has cut some up into nice bite sized chunks for me. This I approve of. She insists on having some broccoli with hers.
There are times I really don't understand human beings.
7:30 PM. The staff is watching Jeopardy. I miss that Trebek guy.
7:42 PM. Who is Aristotle. Of course I'm right. I'd bet that idiot dog down the road went with Socrates.
11:40 PM. The staff is off to bed. Good night, staff, sleep well, but do keep the door open. If I feel like sprinting through the house at three in the morning, there's nothing quite as irritating as finding a closed door.
