Hello, two-legged readers, from Lucinda the literate cat. It has occurred to me that a cat’s view of your day might be of interest to you, as we often do not understand why you do certain things. So, take a look at a day in the life of my CCL (Cantankerous Cat Lady) from the eyes of a cat.
I wake up around 6:30 in the morning. The first job of my day consists of geting the CCL out of bed. I think she’d sleep all morning if Pogo and I would let her. However, if we want to eat, we have to be sure she gets up.
After we get up, we go in the office, so CCL can turn on her computer. Pogo and I supervise, to see that the machine gets turned on properly (though I don’t know how we’d help if she made a mistake.) Then she gets breakfast for the two of us.
The Magic Drink
Her next move involves making herself a cup of coffee. What a strange thing to drink! I’m told it comes from a bean off a tree. I thought beans were vegetables. Does that mean coffee a vegetable? Then, why would she drink it?
CCL has offered me her cup, but with one sniff I can tell I wouldn’t like it. She says it helps her wake up. Well, I can see why. It must taste so bad it clears all the sleep from her head. Too bad I can’t learn to make it for her, as maybe she would get up earlier.
The Mystery Of Clothes
Then, of course she has to put on her clothes. This mystery I’ve described before. She has a little room full of these clothes that she uses to cover her skin. Why so many? And why does she wear different garments called “pajamas” at night? She must enjoy changing clothes a lot — or perhaps she needs to make sure each garment gets worn.
I understand she also has something called a “nightgown” that she wears occasionally. I thought she’d need a gown for going to a fancy two-legged party, and not for sleeping. Does sleeping in that gown cause her to dream about a fancy-dress celebration?
I am so glad we don’t have to deal with clothes. Can you imagine if we had to have a selection of fur
coats in varying colors to wear for different occasions? Our limited sense of color might be a problem. How could we tell if the fur we select is the right hue for the day’s activity?
Besides, it would hurt us to remove our fur. CCL can take off those clothes because they aren’t attached to her the way our coats are. How did she arrive in the world with nothing but skin? Does she shed her fur at birth? Puzzling. And where would we store our furs? In CCL’s closet? I’m afraid they wouldn’t fit.
Another thing: You two-leggeds all wear shoes and foot coverings you call socks. Why don’t you ever go barefoot, like we do? CCL says sometimes you do in summer.
My feet can tell me a lot from the surface they walk on. They tell me the temperature, the weather, and the seasons of the year. I am close enough to the ground that I can smell it, and it tells me who else has passed that way recently.
Also, since I have four feet instead of two, I’m sure I am much less apt to tip over than my tall CCL,
who fortunately seems to have a pretty good sense of balance, so she doesn’t fall over
After she feeds us, she spends some time doing what she says are her early-morning tasks on the computer. Since I am a literate cat, I do understand a bit of this process, but certainly do not see why she spends so much time on it. Wouldn’t there be things to do that would be more fun? Like playing with me?
CCL Wakes Up The Car
Once we eat and she dresses and has had her coffee, it might be time for CCL to leave the house. While Pogo and I are napping, she goes out on errands in her car. At first, I believed the car to be alive, but now realize it is just a machine, like the computer. CCL does have to feed it, though, with a fluid called gasoline. Have you smelled that stuff? Only a machine could find it tasty.
She coaxes that machine to life, and off she goes. As long as she keeps the car on the road, she can go anywhere. Often she comes home bringing all sorts of papers and packages. These packages include food for her and us. I guess I’m grateful she has the car so she can collect all that stuff, especially our food.
CCL explained to me that, instead of hunting for food the way we do when we’re outdoors, she goes to a place where all the two-legged food is stored, and she just has to pick out what she wants. These two-leggeds sure have it easy!
Exchanging Money For Food
I did learn that they can’t just take food and leave. They have to exchange something called “money”
for it. I’m not sure where she finds money, or even what it is. Perhaps she trades other items for it, such as some of those extra clothes in her closet. Perhaps she digs it up, or finds it amongst all those papers she brings home. At any rate, she collects it somewhere.
Either before or after her trip with the car, she builds a fire in the wood stove in our garage. How can this task be called building something? She just piles a bunch of wood and paper in there and lights it with a match. I don’t understand why it’s called “building.” I thought fire was used to destroy things, not to build them. Oh, well — she says she’s building, so that must be what she’s doing.
Pogo and I are both a bit afraid of the fire, because it feels so hot, but we do find it very nice to lie in front of if we are cold. CCL does keep the fire inside the metal box where she builds it. I certainly hope it never escapes, or it might eat up everything in the house.
A Strange Bathing Method
CCL’s method of bathing makes me gasp. She takes off all her clothes, down to her skin, and stands under a shower of water in the bathtub. I don’t believe she comes equipped with an excellent scrubber, like we are. Anyway, I have never seen her wash herself with her tongue. She uses a special cloth to wash with instead. I’m glad for my tongue, as I’d have trouble holding that cloth.
When she is home, CCL spends lots of time on the computer or writing things down. If I were not a literate cat, I wouldn’t understand what she does for so long. I’m just glad I don’t have to write all day, every day. Writing these posts ranks as the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I certainly wouldn’t want to do the same thing all day. How boring!
Of course, the difference in size between us takes some adjustment. We prefer it when two-leggeds are either sitting down or lying down, because then they are not so hard for us to relate to. Imagine if you can if you were our size and had to look up at your two-legged companion all the time. After a while, you’d get a really stiff neck.
Cats Can Really Jump High
That’s one reason we like to jump to high places. Getting up high allows us to become taller than you. CCL certainly can’t jump as I can. I’d love to see her jump to the counter and then to the top of the refrigerator. I guess being able to jump high gives some compensation for being so small.
I do wish CCL would walk on four legs sometimes. Her hands would work okay as feet. If she had four legs she would be closer to our size, and we could play together better.
Speaking of play, she doesn’t chase toy mice or a string, but she says she plays games with friends. On Friday nights she always eats pizza and plays what she calls a card game with her guest, Judy. Their game has the strange name of “cribbage.” They have a piece of wood with holes in it and twigs (called “pegs” by them) that they put in the holes to mark their score.
They have a number of small pieces of paper called “cards.” These have pictures and numbers on them, and they try to get the biggest numbers so they can race their twigs around the board first.
I guess I’ll never be a cribbage player. For one thing, how would I ever hold the cards? I’d have to lay them on the table, and then everyone would see what I have. I guess that would give them a definite
advantage in the game.
I Like My Litter Box
I’ve also observed that CCL has no litter box. Instead, she sits on a chair with a hole in the middle so she can pass her unused fluids and solids. Then she pulls a handle and it all disappears. I am sure she would love it if we also used that chair, because then she wouldn’t have to clean our litter box.
I’ve heard that some cats do learn to use that chair. I’d be too afraid I’d fall through the hole in the
middle. Then where would I end up? Would I get flushed away? No, thanks — I’ll stick to the litter box.
When we are alone together, CCL will talk to us, and at times we answer. However, when someone comes to visit, those two-leggeds talk and talk. Don’t they get tired of making all that noise?
I believe we cats have a better way. We send messages to each other through our bodies. Perhaps the movement of our tail or our ears, or by the position of our fur we let another cat know how things stand with us. Sniffing noses tells us a lot, as we learn many things depending on their smell. Sometimes we send mental images to each other — kind of a cat telepathy.
When you see us sitting quietly, looking at each other, we may be having an important conversation. Don’t interrupt.
Unless we get in an argument, our conversations are very quiet, which is more than I can say for our two-leggeds.
Where Can She Hide?
I do worry that CCL would have no place to hide in case of danger. Pogo and I can run under the bed. I’d like to see CCL try to get under the bed. It would take her so long, she’d be discovered before she could hide completely.
No, if she had to hide, she’d be better off running out the back door and going to the outhouse. She might be safe there.
I’m sure I’ve forgotten some things, but perhaps you will get some idea of the vast differences between us. Nevertheless, we are happy being part of CCL’s family. We all get along well together.
Thanks for reading. If you have questions about cat and two-legged relationships, please send in the comment section, and I will respond.