(oh hello, look who's back from hiatus)

5:30 a.m.

The hoomans do not realize I need sustenance. F for Failure. Arise, hoomans.

7:30 a.m.

Play! Play! Play! much aggression. many attack. all inanimate things that masquerade as animate are enemy.

11:00 a.m.

The time for excessive grooming and drowsiness has arrived. I will now graciously allow you to pet me, hooman. I will fall asleep on your lap and make you feel guilty for waking me when you have to move.

Sleeeeeeeep

Sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep

Clean self. Sleep. Possibly have a token snack. Sleep.

3:00 p.m.

play, hoomans, play.

Sustenance required.

we interrupt our regularly scheduled programming for gourmet self-care routine. sunning time.

The rug must be suitably punished for having its corner turn up in a truly shocking manner. No-one else punish the rug? I PUNISH THE RUG

*has not been home to observe the cat in the early evening and thus offers no observations from this time period*

9:00 p.m.

How dare you touch me

Throw balls, offer chew toys, but touch not

I wish to hide under chair. What? I am not allowed under chair? Shameful, shameful.

PLAY TIME! Who dares say bed? There is no bed, there is only play.

Perhaps, after long exploration of the floor plan and a daring foray into the bowels of the forbidden recliner chair — perhaps we shall consider bed.

Y'all are welcome.