I’ve just returned from a short business trip. I was gone just a hair over 24 hours, and the world did not spin off its axis. Unless your name is Petey.
All Petey’s needs were met during my absence. He had his medicine; he had an endless bowl of Petey chow; he had a warm, comfortable house; and the company of Beloved. It doesn’t matter.
Petey is M.A.D. Cheesed off. Angry as a bear with a sore foot. Mad as hell, and he’s not going to take it any more!
I know this because he is even more devoted to me than usual. I cannot exhale without ruffling Petey’s fur. I cannot go to the bathroom without a feline escort. Should I decide that I do not want a pair of big blue eyes starting at me while I do my business, I will be treated to plaintive cries of “oh-oh-oh” and the rattling of the door as Petey repeatedly body slams it. As soon as I open that door, I’ll be welcomed like Odysseus returning after 10 years lost at sea.
And what of Beloved and sister Lilikoi? They’re the ones on the receiving end of Petey’s anger. In Petey-think, Beloved is to blame for my departure. Every move Beloved makes is suspect. So, Petey must stare at him to gauge his next move. Will he get rid of the toy basket next? The cat tree? Petey himself?
Should Beloved actually look at Petey or take a step in his direction, Petey must run and hide. Then sneak back up on Beloved to start watching again.
And Lili. Poor Lili. She’s the only one Petey can beat up on. So, he’s kicking her pudgy butt double-time, spitting out mouthfuls of spotted fur at an alarming rate.
No one is safe from the wrath of Petey!