And so now it is the time of the cat, a supreme being of the planet, to have her say as only she can, because she must always have the last word.
7:02 AM. Waking up at home. Slept reasonably well. Dreamed of vast fields of catnip.
7:05 AM. An examination of the exterior notes the presence of flying lunches around the feeders. Snow falling. I thought it was supposed to be spring already.
7:11 AM. Waiting on the staff to come downstairs. After all, breakfast won't see to itself, you know.
7:14 AM. Come on, staff, I've been awake for a whole twelve minutes already, and you still haven't fed me.
7:19 AM. The staff finally comes downstairs. It's about time, staff, I was about to come up there and meow at you. Now then, it's time for you to see to my breakfast.
7:20 AM. Issuing precise instructions to the staff in regards to my breakfast requirements. Now then, staff, I keep telling you that what you really should be doing is putting my plate into the fridge a half hour early for optimum enjoyment by me of the meal, but that would require you getting up earlier. So then, let's get this straight, once and for all.
No field rations.
Are we understanding each other?
7:22 AM. The staff puts down a bowl of milk and a plate of tuna. I approve of these.
What I do not approve of is the bowl of field rations.
7:24 AM. Finished my breakfast. I shall ignore the field rations.
7:26 AM. Sitting on the back of the couch, staring outside, contemplating my to-do list for the day. Naps figure prominently.
7:40 AM. Somewhere off in the distance I can hear the barking of that foul hound, no doubt running all over the place.
Stupid dog.
7:43 AM. The staff is on her way out to that work place she goes to each day. Very well, staff. Drive safely, because it is snowing out there. And on your way home, do remember to pick up some milk at the grocery store.
7:46 AM. The staff drives out in her car, heading to work for the day.
Well, it's my car, but I let her drive it.
8:03 AM. Watching the Weather Channel. They're calling for snow to keep falling, and keep using the term Snowmageddon.
This is why people don't take television weather forecasters seriously.
8:25 AM. Well, you know, I do think it's time for a well deserved nap.
11:23 AM. Waking up. Big stretch and a yawn. Feeling hungry.
11:25 AM. An inspection of the kitchen has determined that the only food out in the open is that bowl of field rations.
Oh, well. Hunger overrides disdain.
12:02 PM. Watching the news. More on Snowmageddon. They're taking it too seriously, but at least they're not bringing back that guy who repeatedly told people they'd have to eat the dead to survive.
I wonder what lunatic asylum he's in these days.
1:31 PM. Looking out the window, trying to see the road from here. No such luck.
Okay, so the weather is bad.
1:37 PM. Initiating a serious case of the zoomies and starting a sprint run through every part of the house for absolutely no reason.
2:02 PM. Have finished with my run. Will take a nap.
3:21 PM. Woken out of my nap by the sound of the front door opening. The staff is coming in, looking snow covered. You're home early.
3:23 PM. The staff informs me that they decided at work to call it a day early because of the snowstorm. Okay, so that means you have more time to spoil me rotten.
4:04 PM. Allowing the staff to give me a belly rub. But just three times, staff, because four times and I'll claw you.
6:38 PM. Dinner with the staff. She's made bacon pancakes. One of my favourites. She's been kind enough to cut it up into small bite sized pieces for me. Very good, staff, very good indeed.
8:39 PM. Pondering the great mysteries of life. What came first, the cat or the purr?
11:03 PM. The staff is calling it a night. Well, good night, staff, get your rest. After all, we're snowed in here from Snowmageddon, which means you'll be off from work tomorrow and can cater to my every whim in person.
