Clara still can't have half my food.

This morning, the One did not get up and pay attention to me at her usual time. Something about a "Saturday," which is apparently a euphemism for "day Nora doesn't get fed at her usual time." Not that this was the first Saturday we've encountered. It happens routinely. But a queen is only born with so much patience, and mine has run out.

This is what it looks like when a queen dies
of boredom. Or starvation. I haven't decided which.

Fortunately, I have several minions at my disposal. Plus Katherine, but she's not useful in any way. I announced that I would give half my squishy food to anyone (other than Katherine, obviously) who convinced the One to get up.

I hate Katherine.

Usually, when faced with a challenge, Fairbanks is ready to jump up and pee on something, which pretty much guarantees action on the part of the One. But he just opened one eye and muttered something about waking him when it was time to go outside and patrol his territory (he was clearly half asleep or he would have noticed his error - there is no territory that belongs to him; duh). It didn't seem wise to bother him again; he's ferocious when he wants to be.

Do not disturb.

To my surprise, Clara the Cow took action! Apparently she believed me when I offered half my squishy food to the victor (I told you she's stupid)!

Clara summarily jumped onto the headboard of the bed and knocked the One's half-full water glass onto the bed with her front paw! [Editor's note: True story.] It was magnificent! The One got out of bed immediately. I had no idea Clara had it in her.

It seems Clara may be more of an ally than I thought.

Then again . . . I've heard there's a cow disease that's highly contagious. I better keep my distance.

Steer clear - could be catching.

Outbursts from foreigners disturb sleep in the palace

A strange cat came to the door last night, yelled "Death to the revolutionaries!" and wandered off again.

I can only assume he was referring to the rodents, who stage uprisings occasionally when they forget what formidable foes Fairbanks and my stupid brother Nick can be. Perhaps he is aware of an upcoming plot on their part. Or perhaps he is simply a loyal subject who wished to gain my favor.

He was a striped cat. It is also possible he was a girl. I couldn't tell. I told the One to take a picture of him, but she said it was too dark outside. Also, she said it was too cold. I said if it was dark and cold out there, perhaps we should invite the visitor in for a nice treat or a nap, but she said he probably already has a home, and besides Fairbanks wouldn't approve.

As if Fairbanks's opinion is somehow more important than mine.

For the record, Fairbanks insists that what the strange cat actually yelled was, "Your territory has been breached!" He became quite agitated and may have peed on something - I can't be sure.

Clara thought the strange cat yelled, "Let's all go out for pancakes," which is just stupid. Everyone knows cows don't eat pancakes.

Nick told me later that he thought the strange cat yelled, "When barn swallows unite, the marbles will be upon us!" which doesn't even make any sense. Thank goodness he kept that to himself. People already look at him funny because . . . well, you know . . . the tail . . .

And I honestly don't care what Katherine thought he said because I hate Katherine.

If I am able to find out more about either the strange cat or a possible rodent uprising, I shall inform you immediately.

The Queen has spoken