A Day In The Life Of A Cat

And once again it is time for the cat to have her say. She is one of the supreme beings on the planet, after all, and must always have the last word.

7:14 AM. Waking up at home. Big stretch and a yawn. Slept exceedingly well. Dreamed of catnip.

7:17 AM. Enough light out there to make sense of what's going on. A few flying lunches around the feeders already. You're lucky you're out there and I'm in here...

7:20 AM. Waiting on the staff to get down here and see to my breakfast. After all, I can't make it myself, and that's what she's here for anyway.

7:25 AM. The staff finally comes downstairs. It's about time, staff. Did you know I've already been awake for a whole eleven minutes and still haven't been fed? Now then, time for you to rectify that...

7:27 AM. Busy reminding the staff of my specific breakfast requirements. Now then, staff, milk and meat are entirely acceptable, but the meat really ought to be served on a pre-chilled plate. It's all about optimum dining enjoyment. I keep telling you to do this, and you never do. Would it kill you to wake up a half hour early? And for the record? No field rations. Are we clear on that?

7:28 AM. The staff puts my breakfast down on the floor. The bowl of milk and plate of tuna are entirely to my satisfaction. The bowl of field rations is not.

I sigh, and set to work eating what appeals to me.

7:30 AM. Finished with breakfast: namely the milk and tuna. I have left the field rations alone. Perhaps she'll take a hint. 

7:40 AM. The staff is on her way out for the day to that work place. Very well, staff. Don't forget to pick up milk on your way home.

7:43 AM. And out she goes from the driveway. Now then, things to be considered in planning for the day. When do I take my first nap?

8:02 AM. A lot of barking coming from the woods. It's that idiot mutt from down the road. From the sounds of it, he's annoyed about something. Good.

Just as long as he doesn't come on my property, or there'll be hell to pay.

8:14 AM. I think a nap is in order. Yes, that would do nicely.

10:51 AM. Waking up out of a good nap. A patrol of the premises is in order. And a look outside to see what the flying lunches are up to.

11:03 AM. Checking out the Weather Channel. They're making mention of Snowmageddon.

Seriously? Overreacting because of a winter snowstorm?

11:51 AM. Wandering into the kitchen... and reminded by the food rations in that bowl that it's the only source of food out in the open.

Sigh. Oh well.

11:57 AM. Note to self: have a word with the staff about some sort of dispenser that will issue tuna on demand.

Of course, what will I need her for then?

Oh right, belly rubs.

1:29 PM. Woken up out of a sound sleep by the distant sound of barking from down the road. That idiot mutt. Barking at the mailman yet again.

And interrupting my well earned nap.

2:50 PM. Sharpening my claws on the scratching post has released some residual scents of catnip.

Uh oh.

Going into a catnip frenzy in three, two, one....

5:07 PM. Waking up out of a well earned nap. My catnip frenzy led me to sprint all over the house at top speed one hundred and forty seven times.

5:19 PM. The staff comes home. It's about time, staff.

By the way, if you happen to come across anything that was knocked over, blame the catnip.

Speaking of which, did you buy some more?

5:23 PM. Supervising the staff while she puts the groceries away.

Very good, staff, very good. Catnip. And milk.

I approve.

5:50 PM. The staff is busy making dinner.

This includes ground beef. 

6:32 PM. Dinner with the staff. She's made a plate of ground beef for me. She insists on having hers as meatballs, with some spaghetti. 

Whatever floats your boat, staff.

7:02 PM. Heading into the living room while the staff does the dishes. 

It's not like I can do dishes anyway, and I don't want to get my paws into soapy water.

7:06 PM. The Weather Channel guys are again going on about the polar vortex and Snowmaggedon. 

Come on, grow up.

8:47 PM. Lying by the fireplace, warming my belly and thinking of life's great mysteries.

Why does the staff think the red dot is funny?

11:35 PM. The staff is off to bed. Good night, staff. Sleep well.

But keep the door open.

I reserve the right to sit on top of you and stare at you until you're obliged to wake up.

A Day In The Life Of A Dog

It is time once again for the point of view of the dog and the cat. As always, the dog has the first say in these things, since his attention span is so short.

7:21 AM. Waking up at home. Slept very well. Dreamed of chasing a squirrel. The little bastard got up a tree just two seconds before me.

One of these days....

7:23 AM. A check out the windows. Not dawn, but light enough that I can see things around out there. More snow in the night. Good. I like running through fresh powder. 

But first things first. Breakfast. 

7:25 AM. Waiting on the human to get downstairs and see to my breakfast. You know, breakfast is my favourite meal of the day. In a four way tie with lunch, dinner, and snacks.

7:29 AM. The human comes downstairs. I start furiously thumping my tail on the floor in greetings. Good morning, human! Fine day, isn't it? Say, how about we get started on making me some breakfast?

7:31 AM. Watching the human working on getting my breakfast ready. 

Oh boy oh boy oh boy....

7:33 AM. Licking my chops after polishing off breakfast. Just five seconds off my record time for fastest breakfast ever. 

7:38 AM. Inquiring with the human as to if she'll let me out for a run.

7:40 AM. Out the back door and on my way.

See you later, human!

7:45 AM. Running through the back fields, barking my head off, as happy as I can be. Life is good!

7:56 AM. Wandering through the woods.... wait a minute. Movement up ahead.

It's that squirrel!

7:57 AM. Carefully stalking the squirrel... seems to have no idea I'm here. 

Revenge at last... this is so sweet....

No, he's turning....

Damn it! He sees me!

7:58 AM. Circling around at the bottom of a tree. The squirrel is up there, looking down at me, chattering away. He's teasing me, the little bastard.

Get down here! You hear me??

Get down here and say that to my face, you coward!

8:12 AM. After much circling around the tree and barking at that infernal squirrel, I give up. He's not coming down anytime soon. 

Time to leave.

I start off. He laughs at me as I go.

I turn. One of these days, you're going to get yours. You hear me?

You're going to get yours!!!!!!

8:38 AM. Barking at the back door to let the human know I've returned. 

8:40 AM. Putting up with being subjected to the Towel of Torment to dry me off. Still feeling annoyed by coming so close to catching that squirrel. So close, but so far.

Human? I want to destroy a squirrel. Give me your credit card and let me call Acme. They always work so well for that coyote, right?

10:25 AM. The human is having coffee. I have mooched a cookie from her.

12:02 PM. The weather forecaster on the news is talking about something he's calling Snowmageddon.

What ever happened to just doing your job and taking weather as it comes?

12:15 PM. Lunch with the human. She's given me a cheese sandwich. I approve, human, I approve.

1:29 PM. Barking at the mailman as he drops stuff off at the mailbox and drives away.

Don't you ever come back! You hear me?

4:05 PM. The human is having afternoon tea. I have mooched an oatmeal cookie off her.

4:23 PM. Can't help but notice in the dying light of day that it's snowing out there.

6:35 PM. Dinner with the human. She's made herself lasagna. For whatever reason she's just given me a plate of ground beef. 

Come on, human, I'm not that messy an eater.

We can forget the spaghetti incident, right?

Oh well, beef is good.

7:05 PM. The human is setting to work on the dishes. I'd help, human, really I would, but I think it would end with some broken dishes and soap water splashed all over the kitchen.

I'll just keep the couch warm for when you get in.

7:55 PM. Belly rubs. My favourite time of the day.

9:08 PM. Pondering the great mysteries of life. Do squirrels exist for any other reason but to torment dogs?

11:45 PM. The human is off to bed. Good night, human. Sleep well.

I'll be on guard down here against any movement from the squirrels.

In between naps.

The Wrath Of A Bomb Cyclone

 

North America still recovering from winter bomb cyclone blizzard; has unintended side effects

Calgary (CP). The late December blizzard of 2022 that wrecked havoc with holiday travel, caused deaths and massive power outages, and was a general Scrooge to Christmas, will live on in memory. Termed a 'bomb cyclone' by meteorologists because of how quickly pressure dropped in the low pressure mass, the storm held much of the continent in its grip, leaving a lot of snow behind, especially in areas that tend to get off with mild winters.

Scientists and meteorologists are already writing extensive follow ups on the storm. Power utility workers have been busy finishing up repairs. Insurance companies are fretting. Television forecasters who panicked and told people to be ready to eat the dead have been removed from on-air responsibilities. And bomb cyclone has become a buzzword to start the new year off with in an unusual way.

One of the millions who experienced the storm first hand was an egomaniac who spends most of his time in the warmer climates of California. Director Michael Bay, the explosion happy creator of films like Pearl Harbor and Armageddon, found himself stranded at the very epicentre of the storm, Buffalo, New York, where four feet of snow fell. This week, Bay appeared via video link to make a statement to reporters. He was clad in a heavy hooded parka, appearing to shiver constantly.

"It's going to take me months to warm up!" Bay complained. "I'm not meant for cold weather!"

Bay related that he had been on a Southwest Airlines flight diverted into Buffalo before the blizzard hit and spent several days in a Buffalo hotel with nothing to do. "It's Buffalo! I don't care if I was staying in a Hilton, it's still Buffalo! I mean, are you kidding me? Buffalo? In the winter! Gotta say, that's not good. But while I was there, freezing in ungodly cold- yes, the hotel was heated but still, I'm a California guy and I like warm weather- watching the blizzard outside, watching the news about the bomb cyclone, I got an idea for a movie."

He took a long swallow of hot chocolate, apparently his go-to at the moment, and continued. "Yes, that's right. Bomb Cyclone, the movie. Starring Nicolas Cage as the heroic scientist who has to stop a global snowstorm that's going to trigger an ice age, and save his son stranded in the middle of it. I'm sure I'll be able to figure out how to work lots of explosions into the whole thing. That's a great idea if you ask me, and you are asking me."

It is left to the reader to decide if Bay has ever heard of The Day After Tomorrow.

While the Buffalo Chamber of Commerce decides whether or not they want to issue a formal statement chastising Bay for his criticism of their city, the work continues to dig out from the storm. It's left enough snow in a lot of places that winter total numbers records for snowfall might be broken.

Those who deal with seasonal affective disorder are busy counting the minutes until the first day of spring, and having dark thoughts about the groundhog predicting a longer winter in February.

For a local take on the storm of storms, reporters sought out the world's greatest and crankiest lawman. RCMP Inspector Lars Ulrich was at his detachment in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Upon being assured that all reporters present were aware he wasn't the other Lars Ulrich, he appeared more at ease. "It's just winter. You get through it, you push on. Keeping moving forward. No big deal, really," he remarked.

"Lars! Lars!" an excited voice called from a distance, striding towards the group of reporters with a cameraman in tow. This reporter and his colleagues saw an Entertainment Tonight mike in his hand. "Chip Chandler, Entertainment Tonight, Lars. What everyone wants to know is, when is Metallica releasing a duet album with Mariah Carey?"

By now all of the other reporters had backed away to give the inspector clearance. Ulrich spoke in a low but menacing tone. "I am not that Lars Ulrich."

"Are you sure?" Chandler asked. He didn't have time to say anything else, as Ulrich threw a punch that sent him flying down into a snowpile near the road. What followed was an epic chase across three hundred kilometres of mountain landscapes that ended with Chandler in a body cast in hospital, muttering about Metallica cyclones.

No Shortage Of Stupid Crooks

The following narrative is something I witnessed in person a couple of months back here. The stupidity of a stupid crook in person. It was hilarious.

Well, except for the crook, who was in a world of trouble. This is probably a typical thing for him. 

It was just an average day. Stopping in an area where I'll often stop. And on my way out, noticing a guy, pretty rough looking, sitting on a bench, kit bag beside him. Drinking from a large bottle of whiskey, vodka, whatever.

And noticing a police car pulling up right nearby him.

And that's when it became an unusual day.

Because the cop got out, walked over, started speaking to him. More than half a bottle in, he was already drunk. Or maybe he'd been drinking beforehand. I stopped, waited, watched.

It's not long before the cop has him up on his feet, walking him towards the car. Okay, maybe this is an intoxication, taking him to sleep it off. 

But no. The conversation turns heated, entirely on the part of the drunk.

And it's at this point where the drunk shoves and slaps at the cop. In a drunk way, but still.

Common sense: you don't ever hit a cop.

Not that common sense would occur to this guy.

At this point, other people are now stopping and watching. The cop pretty quickly has him down and cuffed. And is calling for backup. Right now.

Of course it doesn't take long for a radio call like that to draw in more cops. Shortly after three more cops are on site. The guy is on his feet, marched right towards the first car, securely cuffed, protesting that he wasn't doing anything wrong. Once he's in the back of the cruiser, the cops pick up his kit bag and inspect it on the front of the cruiser.

The bag had three more large bottles of booze inside.

That's the thing- the place where I was had an LCBO on site. Primary liquor distribution retail outlet in the province of Ontario.

So this dumbass robbed the place. Walked out, walked right past a bus stop where he could have grabbed the first bus he saw away from the scene...

...and instead decided to go deeper into the property and sit on a bench and drink from one of the bottles he'd stolen.

Dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Suffice to say, a bad day for a dumb crook. What would have otherwise been a routine petty crime- shoplifting four bottles of booze- gets a hell of a lot more complicated and more consequential when you add resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer to the equation.

But it's probably the latest in a long line of negative interactions for this guy with the police. And not to be the last.

Because someone this dumb will not change.