You know how moms of humans sometimes talk about feeling guilty and torn leaving their offspring, while going to work/vacation/out for much needed drinks away from the homestead?
I’ve often thought these women were fucked in the head for not wanting time away from their children until my little ones started pulling this shit whenever I try to leave the mini manse (and yes, my babies are cats. Stop judging).
Ted and New Cat have a perch right by my front window that allows them to look over the mighty kingdom of the side yard.
When hearing my keys clink together New New typically scrams, knowing that it’s time to nap the day away.
On the other hand Mr. Bear, acts as if he’s aboard the sinking Titanic with my departure being the last time we’ll ever see one another before drowning into the abyss of dark ocean waters (he takes after his mother in the drama department). So as soon as he hears the key hit the doorknob, he immediately engages me in a stare down.
Then he quickly tip toes like he’s walking the plank over the windowsill with high hopes of preventing my exit.
Before I know it, a blur of gray appears before my eyes.
The little love of my life then tries to morph into The Rock, keeping the steel door from closing in his furry face.
Regretfully I draw the door closed as my heart starts cracking.
Oh how the guilt washes over me as I gently shut the door.
I get it moms to humans. I get it.
Is it too much to ask to be a stay at home cat mom?