“You’re home,” Freddie announced, greeting me at the door.
“Yeah,” I said, walking past him, my hands full of my work things.
“Are you sick again?”
I looked down at him, frowning. “No. Why?”
“You’re early.”
I suddenly realized what was confusing him. “It’s daylight savings. We changed the time by an hour.”
“Again?!”
A gentle reminder of how we do things: 🐱🐶🐦
- Do not troll the diary. If you hate pootie diaries, leave now. No harm, no foul.
- Please do share pics of your fur kids! If you have health/behavior issues with your pets, feel free to bring it to the community.
- Pooties are cats; Woozles are dogs. Birds... are birds! Peeps are people.
- Whatever happens in the outer blog STAYS in the outer blog. If you’re having “issues” with another Kossack, keep it “out there.” This is a place to relax and play; please treat it accordingly.
- There are some pics we never post: snakes, creepy crawlies, any and all photos that depict or encourage human cruelty toward animals. These are considered “out of bounds” and will not be tolerated. If we alert you to it, please remember that we do have phobic peeps who react strongly to them. If you keep posting banned pics...well then...the Tigress will have to take matters in hand. Or, paw.
Later that afternoon, we were reclined on the couch, me under the furry blanket and him on top of it. I was considering picking up my knitting project. My coworker isn’t getting any less pregnant as time passes, so I thought I should probably try to finish it.
“Is it time to eat yet?” Freddie wondered.
I looked at my watch. “Not yet.”
I felt him droop a little. “It’s still early,” I said, jerking my head toward the window where it was still bright and sunny.
“You’ve been home for a long time,” he pointed out.
“Only about an hour,” I said.
Freddie watched as I finished my dinner. “None for Freddie?” he said, mournfully.
I shook my head. “Too much garlic,” I told him. “Not good for Freddie.”
He gave a big sigh. “I’m so hungry and my dinner is so late.”
I snorted. “The clocks moved forward, so your meals are coming an hour earlier,” I said. “Save the dramatics for the Fall.”
“I want the dramatics nooooooooow” he howled.
I shook my head. “It’s dinner you want now, not dramatics.”
“Can’t I have both?”
I shook three treats out of the bag, Freddie watching my movements with every cell in his body. He followed my hand as I laid them gently on the couch cushion in front of him. He vacuumed them up like he’d never been fed in his life.
He looked up at me, hope on his face.
“That’s all you get. Dinner is coming soon and you don’t want to spoil your appetite.”
“If it means eating now I do want to spoil my appetite,” he said, eagerly.
I grinned at him. “Okay, let’s say that I don’t want to spoil your appetite.”
He thought about it. “But everyone says you spoil me.”
“That’s true,” I said, not understanding what he was getting at.
“So you should spoil all of me. Even my appetite.”
I laughed.
“Is it time – “
“Yes! Let’s feed you,” I said, lowering the footrest.
He was already in the kitchen.
“Boy, you move fast when food is involved,” I said, carefully selecting a packet of wet food. Hungry and eager or not, he would refuse to eat a flavor or brand he had already had for breakfast. As I spooned it up, he rubbed his whole body against the backs of my calves and bumped his head against the lower cabinet doors. “Take it easy,” I advised.
“The schedule is off and I’m hungry,” he complained.
“The schedule is off in your favor,” I pointed out again. “This is an early dinner. Until the Fall.”
He ignored me as I set the plate on his mat. I stroked his fur once and backed up to let him have at it.
“Delicious late dinner,” he muttered with his mouth full.
“It’s early,” I reminded him.
Freddie sat next to me on the couch, carefully cleaning his face with one paw.
“Are you happy now?” I asked.
“Busy,” he murmured.
“Okay, I’ll wait,” I said, leaning forward to pick up my project.
Once he finished with his face, he settled down to groom the fur of his back and legs. I reached over a few times to pet him, but he threw me such annoyed side-eye each time that I stopped. Finally, he finished and tucked his paws beneath him. “What time is it?” he asked.
I looked at my watch. “quarter after eight,” I said.
“That means nothing to me,” he answered, and closed his eyes.
I yawned and looked at my watch. With the time change I was exhausted. “I’m going to bed,” I told the cat on my lap.
“Already?” he demanded.
I frowned. “It’s my normal bedtime,” I said.
“It’s too early!”
I shook my head. “The time changed,” I explained again. “It only seems early because time moved forward.”
“Time always moves forward,” he said, confused. “Except sometimes on the stairs.”
“The stairs? Like the thing on the stairs you always stare at?”
“I’ve said too much.”
I was half asleep when I felt Freddie land on the mattress. “Hey, little man,” I muttered.
“Now it’s time for bed,” he whispered, curling up next to me.
“Okay,” I said. I drifted a little when I realized something. “Wait, so you know everything is earlier?” I said, lifting my head to look at him.
He yawned. “Too early,” he said.
“Then why were you acting like your dinner was late?”
He opened one eye and it locked on mine. “I wanted to eat,” he said.
Happy Caturday, Peeps! We’re adjusting here at Casa Freddie. The start of Daylight Savings time is easier on the animals than it is on the humans, I think. Freddie’s meals are coming earlier and he’s not complaining.