Daylight Savings Drama

 I woke up, stretched my glorious limbs, and immediately felt that something was wrong.

The sun was in the wrong place. The birds outside were not chirping their usual “Good morning, Your Majesty Gryzka” song. Most importantly…

MY BREAKFAST HAD NOT ARRIVED.

I blinked. Perhaps Ania had merely suffered temporary brain malfunction. It happens. Humans are fragile creatures.

I strutted into her room, leaped onto the bed, and executed The Wake-Up Pounce directly onto her stomach.

She groaned. “Gryzka… what are you doing?”

I meowed. Loudly. And then again. And then louder.

Ania groaned again, grabbed her phone, and muttered, “Gryzka, it’s not breakfast time yet.”

EXCUSE ME??

Not breakfast time??

“LIES!” I shrieked, marching in circles. “It is always breakfast time when I say it is breakfast time!”

Ania, the offender, yawned. “We moved the clocks forward, remember? Daylight savings time.”

I stopped mid-circle. Squinted at her. Moved the clocks?

Oh, so now she thinks she can just move time itself.

Interesting.

Phase One: Immediate Protest

I dramatically threw myself onto her pillow and wailed. “Aniaaa, I am wasting away! I am but a husk of my former self!”

She rolled over. “You had dinner.”

“DID I?” I cried. “Or was it an hour earlier than I thought?!”

Ania just groaned again. I needed a stronger protest.

Phase Two: Disrupting the Household

I stomped to the living room, knocking exactly one object off the table for emphasis. A pen. It made a very small noise.

Unsatisfying.

I knocked down another object.

A coaster. Slightly better.

Then I spotted it—a glass of water.

I looked at it. Looked at Ania. Looked at it again.

“Gryzka, don’t,” she warned.

I did.

Phase Three: The Hunger Strike (Lasting Approximately 45 Seconds)

After the water-glass fiasco, I collapsed onto the floor, heaving dramatic sighs.

“Ania… I feel… weak…”

She sighed and finally got up. “Alright, alright, I’ll feed you.”

Victory.

Or so I thought.

She walked to the kitchen and—horror of horrors—she did not open the wet food can.

She poured… kibbles.

Dry. Lifeless. Kibbles.

I gasped in outrage. “ARE YOU PUNISHING ME FOR POINTING OUT YOUR TIME CRIMES?!”

Ania just laughed. “You’ll survive.”

Survive? Survive?!

This is how civilizations collapse.

I flopped onto the floor in one final act of protest.

Ania rolled her eyes and poured coffee. “You’ll be fine, Gryzka.”

I narrowed my eyes.

Fine?

Oh no, dear Ania.

This is not over.

Tomorrow, I’m waking you up an hour early.