If anyone ever asks you if an animal has an emotional life, tell them about The Grey Cat.
She has one human. He’s at music camp this week. She misses him. Oh, god, she misses him.
He had packed the car in a few trips, one bag or box at a time, trying to look like he wasn’t, you know, LEAVING. Because The Grey Cat is a very smart cat. She understands perfectly what bags and boxes mean — someone is leaving! And if there is a soft-sided black bag with screening on two sides, she’s leaving with the human(s) which is much better than being left. Only this time, no soft-sided black bag with screening on two sides so some surreptitiousness was called for.
By Sunday at about 10pm, she’s in the window sill, sitting there, watching, waiting. She knows the sound of her human’s car very well. A most distinctive diesel engine. Oh, she knows the other car two, but her human’s car? That one she picks up a half block away.
By 11pm, I’m in deep doo-doo. She’s stalking me, as I close up for the night, meowing (which she hardly ever does), almost begging me to tell her where the hell he is. Sadly as smart as she is, her human vocabulary is limited to ‘treats’ and ‘brush’ and ‘no’ — at least, when she wants to stay out of serious trouble.
Monday morning, it’s breakfast time. I give her fresh water and food. I offer to brush her. She RUNS AWAY! She loves to be brushed but apparently only by her human. Who is not me. Oh, I’m worth a good nudge at midnight, get the ears scratched, asked one more time “What the hell did you do to him that he’s not home with me?”, but I’m not him.
And she misses him.
So, to make the days go faster, she’s sleeping a lot and ignoring me more. I’m hoping that the little calendar I made for her and posted by her litter box helps. I’ve circled Sunday in red. ’cause I miss him too.