In the house 100% of the time, save visits to the veterinarian—that horrible, horrible place that smells of, well, everything.
Sleep ten hours a day.
(Beg to) eat 37 times a day; hourly estimates will vary depending on human presence and responsiveness. In protest, shove unacceptable flavors of food off the feeding station for that great splat-jangle sound.
Sip at the water bowl 56 times, loudly complaining each time that the water dish is too small and it has someone else’s spit in it. Again time estimates will vary; humans are eternally unpredictable.
Muster up the courage to visit the primitive ‘facilities’ by wildly racing around the house yowling as if in heat. A good hour and a half total.
Urinate and defecate—in the same place! And there’s always something (eww) in the way. About thirty seconds before skittering out at a near all-out scramble; multiply by as few times a day as felinely possible for twenty-one minutes, round to a half hour for simplicity.
Groom four hours a day. Sharpen claws at least once an hour. After all, one never knows. Eliminate grooming accumulations onto a well-traversed pathway every few days.
Stalk birds at the window; pounce windblown leaf shadows; chase laser; swat dogs; ambush humans; play pinball with anything that looks interesting; sit at the point where the anything went under x, where x is an object without entire-cat clearance, to shout “goooooooooal!” That about covers—
Ohhh. Wait for those moments, delicious moments when a human walks away from a perfectly good, oh, say a three-inch thick round of salami. Secret prize anywhere the dogs and humans can’t reach.
Fight off your feline competitor with every ounce of pent up frustration you have.
Enjoy!
above photo credit
Our actual culprit:
Rascal ©2013–TGDavidson
©2014–Sandra R. Davidson
A Layering of Perception 