“Come on,” I crooned, Patting my lap. I was on the couch with my feet up, the furry blanket was spread over my lap and legs creating the perfect platform for him to nap.
He sat on the floor, staring right into my face, making no move to jump onto the couch.
I patted my lap a little harder, adding a whistle for good measure. He never ignored my whistle.
He ignored my whistle, lifting one paw to his mouth and giving it a lick, his eyes not leaving mine.
I sighed. “I have to go to work,” I said.
“All day?!” he demanded.
“All day,” I agreed.
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.
He finally jumped up onto the couch, but he was clearly not in the mood to sleep on me. Instead, he sat on the furry throw pillow that laid flat next to me and glared.
“I don’t like leaving you alone any more than you like being alone,” I explained. “I’d stay home with you all day if I could, but unfortunately no one is willing to pay me to do that.”
“Pay, pay, pay,” he scoffed. “Human nonsense.”
“It is,” I agreed, solemnly. “But it’s human nonsense that affects us both. Can’t escape it. Unless I win the lottery, I guess.”
“Do that!” he demanded.
I shook my head. “That’s not a reliable plan,” I said. “Plus I almost never buy tickets.”
He frowned at that.
“I need money to buy your food and put a roof over your head. And pay off your vet bills.”
“Stop taking me to the vet!” he insisted. “Then you won’t have any bills!”
“Stop getting sick!” I shot back. “Then we don’t have to go!”
“I can’t control that,” he said, thoughtfully.
“I know,” I said. “You’re a good boy and I just want to keep you alive. Which requires having a job and leaving the house every day.”
He thought about this, absently making biscuits on the throw pillow. I sat quietly and let him work through it.
“You can leave the house,” he said, grudgingly.
“Why, thank you,” I said, grinning at him.
“But someone should be home at all times,” he added.
I sighed.
There was a change to our routine this week. My mom works from home four days a week, meaning Freddie is only home alone during the day one day a week. That changed to two days a week thanks to things out of my mom’s control. Freddie is not happy about this.
I patted my lap again. “Come sit with me,” I said.
Never able to stay mad for too long, Freddie stood and walked over to my lap. He spent some time arranging himself so he was curled up on my thighs facing me. I ran my hand over his head and he closed his eyes in contentment. “You sleep all day anyway,” I said.
His eyes snapped open. “That doesn’t make it okay!” he said.
I lifted my hands, palms toward him. “I know,” I said. “But it is a fact. You’ll sleep and we’ll be home before you know it.”
“I know it!” he said, then stood and turned, giving me his back as he plopped back down.
“At lease you’re still on my lap,” I said, resuming my petting.
“You can’t stay mad forever,” I said to his back.
“I’ll get mad again every time you leave me alone for days and days,” he said, dramatically.
I frowned. “Days and days? More like ten hours.”
“Same thing!” he shot back.
“Not really,” I insisted.
“It’s bedtime,” I told him. “Let’s go get into bed and get warm.”
“Already in bed,” he murmured, mostly asleep on my lap.
I petted the fur of his back, attempting to gently wake him. It worked as it usually does. He lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at me.
“I need to go to bed,” I repeated. “Let’s go upstairs.” I slowly lowered the leg rest, giving him plenty of time to stand and jump to the floor. He did.
I lifted the furry blanket off my let and spread it over the throw pillows as I usually do, making him a little nest to sleep on if he chose. Standing, I stretched then looked down at him. “You coming to bed with me? I think you should.”
“No,” he said, simply, and walked into the kitchen to finish his dinner.
“You’ll be up later,” I told him, but I was really telling myself.
I brushed my teeth and washed my face, then changed into my pajamas. Walking to the bed, I paused long enough to step on the power button for the electric blanket that was made into the bed. Shivering a little, I climbed under the covers and turned out the light.
“He’ll be here any minute,” I told the empty room.
I picked up my phone and opened the kindle app, settling in to read for a half hour or so before going to sleep. “Any minute,” I murmured.
The blanket heated up and I found myself growing sleepy. I rolled over onto my side, my favorite sleeping position, and held the phone near my face so I could keep reading. I was very comfortable and pleasantly sleepy.
But still alone.
I set my phone down on the mattress next to me, face down. “Freddie!” I called.
Silence was the response.
“You never stay mad this long!” I said.
He didn’t answer.
Sometime later that night or early the next morning, I woke. A little stiff from having been prone in the same position for several hours, I rolled over, wincing a little at an ache in my hip. I paused my movement when my right foot hit an obstruction.
“Freddie?” I whispered, sitting up to look at the end of the bed.
The cat was curled up in the corner of the mattress, his back to me.
“I knew you’d come!” I said.
He contracted his body, making the curl of his body even tighter.
“Come ‘ere,” I said, patting my belly.
He ignored me.
“Still mad?” I asked.
A pause, and then a quiet, “yes.”
“Are you going to do this twice a week?” I asked.
His head shot up. “Twice a week?!” he demanded.
I laid my head back down. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” I said.
Happy Caturday, Peeps! Alright, I admit it: most of this is a lie. Freddie is slow to anger and quick to forgive. He might bite me, once, not hard (especially if I’ve been playing with his tail) but he doesn’t hold a grudge. Sometimes when he’s been alone during the day he’ll be a little standoffish when we come home, but most times he gets a little clingy. Which is honestly worse than him getting mad.
