Slave to the Clock

Maybe I can set the clock ahead to 4 p.m.

Since we in the U.S. turned back the clocks Saturday night, I thought this post would be appropriate. You did remember to set your clocks back? Good! I didn’t think you’d forget. This post has been sitting in my Blogger drafts for a few hunnert weeks now so I have to dust it off. *Blows* Cough, cough! It’s so old, it still has the old-style watermark.

TW says I’m a slave to the clock; that I clock watch like someone who has a nine-to-five job. I say she’s wrong, of course.

Here’s her reasoning. I get three squares a day; my fave being my dinner of Fancy Feast Grilled Tuna in Gravy. I get that at 4 pm sharp. TW thinks just cos she goes posa most afternoons and doesn’t give me my gut rot (Soulistic grain free with pumpkin soup) until 3 pm, I’m supposed to wait until at least 6 to get my FF.  Nope. Even if I just got through chowing down on gut rot at 3:59, I still start crying at 4 for the FF.

CK: Have you looked at the time? It’s 4 o’clock.

TW: How can you possibly be hungry? You just finished eating your Luna Tuna that you like so much.

CK: You are a liar! You mean that gut rot of which I barely tolerate? I want some real food. Where’s my tuna!

TW: Can you wait a little while?

CK: No! This is my feeding time and I want my food!

At this point, it’s already 4:02 but I get my tuna. I eat one or two mouthfuls and save the rest until later when I’m really hungry. This aggravates TW but I’ve accomplished both my goals.

Finally! Some food that’s not gut rot.

I bet my furrends know what time they get fed. Yesterday, our schedules got all loused up when the clocks were set back. Can’t humans stop tinkering with something as important as time and our feeding schedule?