Thursday, January 7, 2010

Winchester's New Year's Resolutions

Wanna hear my New Year's Resolutions?

It's January 7, Winchester. You're a week late.

I don't go by the human calendars or clocks. I use Cat Time.

Cat Time?

Yes, we cats devised our own calendar and clock eons ago back when we were worshipped in Egypt. It's a pity nobody treats us like the sacred creatures we are any more--

If you were any more pampered, you'd be in a coma. What's Cat Time?

Well, for cats all the days are same. No Sunday or Friday or Saturday. See, those days have certain connotations for humans. Go to church on Sunday. Payday on Friday. Run errands on Saturday. So we don't wake up with different expectations--no Monday blues, no Sunday night angst.

Did you swallow a dictionary?

The Writer got Word-a-Day toilet paper for Christmas. An informative and useful gift.

Okay, so you think up your New Year's resolutions a week later than the rest of the world because you're on Cat Time. Why bother having any if every day is the same?

You have to have goals. You, for instance, might consider changing out of that outfit you've been wearing for 46 years.

Never mind me. So what are your goals?

To get up at 4:30 every morning, stretch, and go dig the carpet so The Writer gets up to feed me breakfast. Then I use the cat box because one must remain regular. Then I'll take a nap until 10:00 when I'll go in The Writer's office and dig the carpet so she feeds me lunch.

Lunch at 10:00 a.m.?

I'm on Cat Time, remember? Then I'll take my afternoon nap on the back of the chair. Then I'll start bugging The Writer for supper at 4:00 p.m. She throws slippers at me to quit digging the carpet and I get my exercise. The best part of the day is evening. The Writer's Husband comes home and gives me treats. Then he drops tidbits off his dinner plate. Then I get my supper. Then he feeds me some of that other cat's food because I look pathetic. Then he gives me more treats before bed and, if I play my cards right, he'll forget about the early evening treats and give me extra.

Those aren't goals! You just described your gluttonous daily schedule (I've been reading the toilet paper, too).

Ah, here comes The Writer with my lunch. Right on schedule.