Cat Day

Why am I late to work in the mornings?

Because my thirteen~year~old kittycat will snag me as I pass, grab my hand with both paws, and snudge his face against it with wild abandon; much as a street urchin kisses the hand of the nobleman who has saved an entire extended family from the workhouse:

I owe you my life, I am crazed with gratitude, I love you beyond all comprehension. Love me. Now.

Because my thirteen~year~old kittycat jumps on my shoulders as soon as I am dressed; then, it's:

a sigh of release, full weight & maximum drape, kneading claws, purrrrrs purrrrrs purrrrrs, squinty~eyed wrinkly~nosed slack~jawed drool, the whole kit & caboodle of cuddleworks.*

Because my thirteen~year~old kittycat will park his beloved arse** in front of the door as I am leaving; and he will look up at me as if to say:

no, no, please, don't put me in solitary confinement, don't put me down in the hole, you are breaking my heart, how can you leave me after everything I've given you, the other cats mean less than nothing to me, what can I do to make you stay?***

It's the terrible, terrible guilt. That's why I'm late for work.

Some day, some day soon, I'm going to call into work and say:

I'm not taking a sick day. I'm not taking a personal day. I'm taking the day to be with my cat.

~ ~ ~

* also known as purrs & spurs {purrspurrspurrspurrspurrs}

** to be known, sooner or later, as the dearly beloved, dearly departed, dearly missed arse.

In human years, he is approximately in his late sixties/early seventies ~~ not quite one paw in the grave; but definitely putting a scent mark on the tombstone.

Yes, I am dreading it. It's bad eneough when I have to leave him for a day; how will it feel when he has to leave me forever?

*** that look which is known around here as Ne Me Kitty Paw.

Posted by edgar at June 5, 2003 01:05 PM