The smell of cat food first thing in the morning is hard to take.
We recently adopted two cats. One of them, Faith, is a monkey head who loves to play all the time. Play play play play play play play.
Two mornings ago, I came home and was unable to find her. Looked high and low. Looked in every room, under every furniture, under the blankets in the closets in the garage, basement, attic, outside three times, shook the cat food container, called her name.
I panicked, and texted the missus, “Come home ASAP, Faith must have gotten outside, SHE’S GONE I CAN’T FIND HER.” She texted back asking if I checked here or there, were the doors left open, etc. COME HOME NOW SHE’S GONE.
I was frantic with worry.
The missus tells me to get back to work, she’s on her way home, we’ll find her.
I’m beset with worry. If anything happened to Faith, I would never forgive myself. She must be in pain somewhere. She got outside and a dump truck ran over her. Oh no oh no nonononononono….
So five minutes later, I’m sitting at my desk trying very hard to concentrate on work, but failing.
In walks Faith, looking to play. Like, “I heard you calling me for 30 minutes but ignored you. Let’s play.”
That little $%^&^&*)(&*(_)&^&*$^%$^*(^&*)(^%^#$^&*!