Fortnight Hibernation

Miss Sugar fast asleep on a sheepskin on top of a grey and white ottoman

It’s Father who breaks the news to me. First, he calls me his Little Sweetie. Although he does it often, it always brings a smile. Then, he marvels over the beauty of my little face. Again, nothing new. He rests his forehead on mine so I can take in a deep breath of his scent – these days it’s a mix of a wood fire, CK cologne, and of course, bacon. And just when I’m purring like a motor and reveling in his attention, he tells me he and Mother are going away for two weeks.

TWO WEEKS? I try to yell the words in his silly language but to no avail. Curses! Two weeks without him is an eternity. How will I cope? Who will go on and on and on about my exquisite allure? With whom will I play pounce on the wiggling foot under the covers? Oh, woe is me.

Miss Sugar relaxing on a white comforter-covered bed with one paw in the air as if she's waving.
Me, waving so-long to my favourite human. And to Mother.

And if you’ve forgotten – because I certainly haven’t – I’ve been giving fussy cats a very good name with my easy-come-easy-go attitude about all of our recent moves. Wallaceburg? No problem! A high rise that smells like despair and dust bunnies? Bring it on! So deep into the sticks that it’s actually just one, single stick? I can take it! And now, abandonment is the thanks I get.

Oh, yes, our friend Elyse will house-sit with me. I won’t be completely alone. She’s delightful and sweet and blah blah blah. Uncles will check on the property. The cameras record the comings and goings. There will be plenty of activity. But it’s just not the same!

I suppose, like most other things in my world, there’s precious little I can do about these developments unless I quickly grow opposable thumbs and about four feet taller. That’s not likely to happen soon. Once again, my trust is being tested and my optimism stretched like spandex two sizes too small.

I will have company in missing my family, my fur-friendly readers, because this page will also feel the neglect. Mother hopes to post photos from their California adventure – if she gets the opportunity and the Wifi. But it’s just a hope and I can tell you what hope gets you. It gets you packed into a plastic crate every few months and told someplace new is now your home!

Wait…did you hear that? Was that what I think it was? The tell-tale crack of the food can lid! Elyse, you’re my favourite! Until Father comes back, that is. Bye-bye, for now, my kibble chasers! It’s dinner time!

All my lerve,

Miss Sugar

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