Bismarck Sees the Light

Bismarck cast about languidly in the morning shadows, burdened still by the desolation of night. It was six o'clock in the morning and like darkness the cold continued to permeate the living room, sweeping up within its brittleness all sense of hope or expectancy. Last night Bismarck had been denied access to his human's room. A closed door had confronted him like a cold shoulder, denying him the body warmth that was besides Friskies Surfing' & Turfin' Favorites his main form of sustenance.
It was at this point that Bismarck tried to get beyond himself. He closed his eyes and attempted to achieve an out of body experience. He imagined himself immense, extending beyond the bounds of the room. But sight was not his most poignant sense. The cacophonous smells of kitty litter and formerly burned incense brought him back to reality. Wistfully, he cast about for a warm lap to sit on, finding only a lap top and the remnants of thermal energy it had once radiated. It gave him the idea to sit on the radiator, which led naturally to the idea of jumping five feet in the air, his hair standing on edge.
By the time this was all over it was 6:04 and circumstances were no different than they had been four minutes previously, the only addition being a mournful awareness of time's insensitive existence.
It was then that Bismarck realized he was a cat. Or because he was a cat he didn't so much as realize as let it be. He saw the train of thought, recognized for what it was and simply let it be, pawing it when it occasionally met his fancy but otherwise letting it be. All of a sudden it was 8:30 and the light came beaming down through a northern facing window. Bismarck went to it and lay. He stifled the impulse to ruminate and allowed the earth to simply illuminate. And in this way he realized the true value of being a cat.