Ok, let’s start with today’s “time change.” I don’t care what the people say, it was a BAD IDEA. Sure, their fancy little timepieces might have said 8 a.m., but my stomach said it was 9 a.m. and that’s the latest I should be forced to wait for food. I’m not a bad cat. Most mornings I wait patiently for the Woman to drag herself out of bed before I begin my daily reminders that I haven’t been fed since the night before and I am starving to death.
This time change is an egregious error. I was not about to wait until one of those bipeds decided they’d had enough rest. I was hungry, dammit, so of course I started calling out to them. Gently at first, of course. But when they were still wrapped up in those blankets when my stomach was growling so hard it hurt, I let them have it. Yes, I howled my head off, until the Man finally got up.
But would he lower himself to opening up a can of Fancy Feast for me? No. He read his stupid newspaper first.
Look, people, get a clue. We don’t love you. We love your opposable thumbs. Accept that and we’ll get along much better.