The Trip

A week ago, Boyfriend and I went to Ottawa to see my cousins. Since Maggie the cat needs pills three times a day, we asked our neighbours, C and N, if they would take care of our "pride" of kittehs. We actually debated some time about asking them - they had had two cats who lived into their twenties and had been heartbroken when the last one passed away last year. N took it particularly hard, and we weren't sure if it would be too painful for her to be near our cats. But they accepted instantly, and it was fun for A and me to be able to go away together.

We showed them where to find Pixie the kitten (in my sock drawer), where to feed Bijou (on the diningroom table - and don't forget her daily saucer of evaporated milk!), and where the brush was, since Maggie ADORES being brushed. Showed them all the toys, and they quickly returned with new toys of their own they had not given away.

They opted to keep all cats inside while we were gone, wanting to make sure all three were alive and well for our return.

I did notice, during our discussions, that Pixie curled up in N's arms and went to sleep - something she doesn't do for me. I'm her favourite chew toy, you see. Apparently, my fingers have "Eat Me!" inscribed on them. But for N, that seemed to be a different matter.

So off we went to Ottawa, and had a lovely time seeing my cousins. We went to the LCBO and bought C and N a bottle of wine you can't obtain here in Quebec, one of my favourites. It's from Sandbanks winery and it's called "Dunes."

Then we came home.

Instead of racing to the back door and howling to be let out, Maggie and Bijou came and sat down in the livingroom with us and Pixie. Rather expectantly. They waited.

"Can they not see us?" grumbled Maggie to Bijou.

"I AM flicking my tail," Bijou replied. (Sigh.) "Okay, I'll roll over and show them my beauty, see if that elicits a response."

Moments passed. A and I were still busy on our computers and flicking tv channels.

"I'm going to hop on Daddy," Maggie offered. She walked over A's keyboard and nuzzled his lips.

A was laughing. "Maggie!" he said, petting her and pushing her off his computer. I bent down and kissed her and petted her. She jumped down in disgust.

Pixie wandered into the centre of the room. All three cats sat within ten feet of each other. Pixie, being young, didn't know not to stare a hole in our heads. Bijou and Maggie both discreetly pretended not to notice us, which is cat-language for "Get off your big arses, we want something you ninnies!"

After a few more minutes, Bijou said "I give up," and skulked down to the basement. Maggie curled up in the boot tray, and Pixie hid in the sock drawer.

The next morning was a repeat performance. Only this time, as Bijou scratched at the door to be let out, I swear I heard Maggie say to her as they ran out onto the deck, "When do you think they'll go away again?"

It appears that Daddy and I have paled by comparison to our neighbours. We are dull and uninteresting, we don't entertain them well at all, and we fail to observe proper feeding protocol.

We have a lot to learn.