Sunday, January 22, 2006

I recently got a cat. It has been quite a while since I had a cat in the household, and I totally forgot how keen they are on sleeping. I mean, I knew they lived for it, but I had forgotten just how seriously they took the whole thing.

Our cat sleeps like 23 hours a day, minimum. He makes it his life's work to find a spot to sleep in that is;

a. completely inconvenient for whatever I happen to be doing at that time.

b. as uncomfortable-looking as possible.

He sleeps, wakes briefly to eat, scratches himself, then finishes off his day with a nap. In short, he is my new God.

I can't help wondering what the hell the domestic housecat did way back before they were domesticated. When they had to earn a living by catching, killing and eating other animals, rather than annoying the bejeezuz out of me until a open a tin. What sort of predator gets away with sleeping 23 hours a day? Probably a lion can get away with that stuff because if you even broached the topic with one he'd slap you silly, like that bloke in New Zealand. Possibly he said something like, "so, are you lazy bastards going to get up now and go chase some antelope or something?" And then the lions are like "that's real funny, bitch, howsabout I ventilate that torso of yours while you lie down and have a think about it?" Not because they felt a need to respond, but because he woke them up and they needed to remind him of the fact that they were actual lions.

Sorry, what was I talking about? Oh, yes, new flying post here, subtitled In Which I Take My Fiance Flying.

2 Comments:

At 9:25 pm, Anonymous Therese said...

That's cats for ya!
Doesn't he look relaxed.
Aaaawwwwwwwww.

 
At 8:13 am, Blogger Chris said...

Did anyone notice the beginnings of a pot belly on the fellow? Not that I'm one to throw stones...

 

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