Things have been weird around the house this week. Mommy left the house on Monday and won’t be back until Friday. At first, I thought that maybe she was visiting family or working or attending a conference, you know, all that stupid stuff humans do that requires them to go outside. But, she posted some photos of herself on Facebook, and I recognize that place. She’s at my editor’s house. She and my editor are friends, that’s how I got this job. Daddy calls it "nepotism," which I think means, "being an adorable and talented kitty journalist." I love how humans have one simple word to mean something really complex. But, I digress.
My issue isn’t that Mommy isn’t allowed to visit her friends. It isn’t that she should have brought me with her, though maybe she should have. Me and an incredibly stupid and easily manipulated male had sort of a thing when I stayed at his house a few months back. Apparently, staying at that house means I have to attend meetings, but I also get a mini-vacation from the hyperactive kitten here, which is kind of nice. He tried “doing the dishes” yesterday in the middle of the night. It did not go well. But, again, I digress.
No, readers, the reason I have issues with Mommy spending a week at my editor’s house is because I think Mommy is cheating. Not on Daddy, but on me. She’s cheating on me with other cats. She posted a photo of herself playing with one of the cats. And when I sat on Daddy’s head while he got photos for my column off the camera, I saw something deeply troubling. Mommy keeps photos of other kitties.
I can’t help myself. I try not to think about it. I distract myself by annoying Daddy, or beating up on the kitten, or eating food, or tearing up the furniture, but I still find myself wondering, does she want another cat? Am I not furry enough for her? Do these other kitties accept more scritchies? Do they have thicker belly-fur? Why am I not cat enough for her? Doesn’t she remember the days on the south side of Chicago when it was just us? That’s how it is with humans, you give them your youth and fur and they run off looking for a new cat.
Daddy insists it’s not about me. Then he starts talking about my editor and things humans do, and I stop listening and tune him out. Of course, it couldn’t be me. I’m perfect. She must have wanted a break from the new kitten. His fur is a lot shiner than mine, and he’s kind of bony, so he’s not as much fun to pet and give scritchies. He also has a weird-shaped tail, reducing overall adorableness. I can’t be there whenever Mommy needs a break. I have food to eat, licking to do, and a pillow to sleep on. I can’t always protect Mommy.
I like this solution, it combines many of my favorite things: Acknowledging how great I am, insulting others, and ignoring Daddy. Also, now I don’t have to be sad any more. Which is good, because I’d rather be my perfect feline self.