A Day in the Life of The Homesteader
My servant is outside busy
walking and moving a few things--I think I saw him trudging toward the
front of Homesteader's Acres a few moments ago. That boy sure likes
spending time outside. Oh well, it can't hurt him at his age I guess. He
needs all the exercise he can get. Chubby old thing.
Anyway, I
spend my evening and nights sleeping on Mom's old pink blanket at the
end of my servant's bed. I love that thing. Comfortable!! Occasionally
in his restlessness he knocks it on the floor so I sleep down there.
Once in awhile I sleep in the green chair by the front doorwindow so I
can keep an eye on the nighttime activity on my acres. It's amazing what
you can see with two good eyes--unlike my servant.
At around six
every morning I have to work on getting the slave up. He thinks I can't
tell time--brain-dead human. (I wonder how he thinks I wake up at the
same time year around no matter how often the humans keep changing the
clocks? Slow learner, I guess.) Usually a cold nose in the face and a
few choice words about the danger of laziness gets him moving. Sometimes
he rolls over moaning as if that will deter me from my work or rouse
some form of pity in me. Duh, I don't think so. (He is a slow learner
remember.) My anti-rollover strategy? Two actually. Claws in the back.
Heh-Heh. Or I just slip under the bed, go to the other side, and begin
the cold nose lecture all over again. He has no chance.
Once he's up, I flop down
in the middle of the doorway to be sure he understands who the boss is
as he has to walk his way around me. I let him turn on the light--as if I
need it--and plug in the computer. Of course, I let him pet me while
he's doing that. That is why they put the sockets down low, you know.
Then, I let him go upstairs to play around in the water for awhile.
Silly humans. I do make him pet me half-way up the stairs and at the top
of the stairs. The proper training is such hard work at times. Being a
good master, I sit quietly while he plays in the water and dries himself
off. I even let him shave off his fur without too much fuss. Why in the
world someone would do that and then go outside in the cold is beyond
me. Humans make such little sense. When he gets dressed, I'm quiet. As
the socks go on his feet, I let him pet me again. Hey, his hands are
down there anyway. Once he's dressed, I let him have it if he continues
to dawdle. It's time for my breakfast, I've been kind and patient, let's
get with it chubby old hairless one. I give him a loud, firm lecture
all the way down the stairs. Such a slacker!
While I'm at
breakfast, he's allowed to play on the computer. Heaven knows what he
does on that thing. ( Of course, if he tries to sneak a bite of pound
cake for his breakfast without sharing that deserves the scolding I give
him.) Otherwise, I just sit there--well, maybe I softly remind him that
I'm sitting right next to him in easy reach--and let him pet me. Who
needs two paws to run a computer?
Then, most days he goes somewhere.
(after he cleans my litter box). And, of course, he must throw out the
bird seed so I can have some entertainment while he's off doing who
knows what. Nothing important, I'm sure. He certainly does nothing
important when he stays home. Other than provide a lap for me to sleep
on while he pretends he can read.
How do I spend my days? For
exercise I race up and down the stairs--elephant races he calls them
when talking to his friends. I call them keeping an eye on the enemy.
Front doorwindow, side window, downstairs' back window, upstairs'
windows. I need to keep an eye on those mongrels in the neighborhood.
Can't be lax with the enemy around. He probably thinks they're "cute."
Stupid Human. Anyway, I spend most of the day sleeping--the green chair
is lovely on a sunny day. Ahhhh. When he gets home from wherever, I
greet him magnanimously at the back door, tell him all about my day, let
him sit in the green chair and supply me with the lap to sleep in after
a few moments of letting him pet me. I think I have the slave pretty
well trained by now--just took a couple of years. If he gives me any
trouble, there's always the shed. He should be somewhat comfortable out
there as long as he's nice to the squirrels. Well, that's my day at
Homesteader's Acres. I had best get down from the computer before he
wanders in. Humans. Such smug, gullible creatures.Think they rule the
world. Ha! Until next time, this is The Homesteader pawing off. Oh,
yeah. Have a great Christmas. My mom told me that you can trace our line
back to one of the cats that was in the barn in Bethlehem. (Well, it
was a cave of sorts actually) Anyway. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year.
Don't you wish you could be the cat's meow?
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