I'm cat-sitting @ my good friends' apartment this month -which means I have consistent interenet, which means I should probably blog more. (I will, I promise, eventually blog about my recent theatrical moral crisis that many of you have asked me to expound upon)
Cats, I must say, are interesting creatures. I like them, but perhaps just because they strike me as the only creature alive who is lazier than I am. They sleep ALL the time - and feel no guilt. Then again, their life seems fairly boring, especially when cooped up 24/7 within a four-room apartment. But they are also careful, fastidious, wonderfully clean creatures (dogs are more fun, but, yes, they do smell). I imagine they don't think themselves lazy at all, in fact, I imagine they have each day carefully planned out, something like:
4am: Wake Maggie up
6:30: Wake Maggie up
9am: Climb on Maggie's lap during breakfast and demand that she eat not one more bite until she gives me a world-class massage.
2pm: 2nd massage of the day. Use litter box.
6pm: Yowl until Maggie feeds me. Then leave the feed in the bowl just long enough to let her know that I'll eat on my own schedule thank you very much.
7pm: Play on Maggie's lap while she tries to write. Really, I have no idea why she thinks she has any other purpose in life than to make me happy . . .
9pm: Eat again.
You get the idea :-)