It was Wednesday night, 8:15 pm.
I was chillin' on my throne: Taking in all the sights and sounds of an empty house.
I don't know if you caught that so I'll say it again slowly.
all the sights and sounds
of an EMPTY house.
I tried to remember if the pet had anything on her schedule, and I couldn't come up with any particularly good answer for why she had left me all alone. Granted, she had come home late on Monday evening, but there wasn't any cause for alarm. Once is not cause for worry...or suspicion...or paranoia.
She didn't have any meetings. She didn't have any parties. She didn't have any bars calling her name.
Two times in one week was simply just odd.
Why then was she not home?
I stretched languidly and looked around the house. Maybe she had come in while I was napping, and I just hadn't taken note of it yet. I checked the usual hot-spots: the kitchen, the bathroom, the den, and the bedroom. No sign of her anywhere. I returned to my throne to ponder the matter further.
I just didn't know what I had done to push her away. I had been trying to form a new habit of sleeping at her feet when she went to bed. I had been more than polite and understanding when she neglected to feed me on time. I had even kept her lap warm while she watched television. Hell, I was crafting a wonderful Thursday Thirteen in her honor. What more did this woman want?
It was all my fault. I had done something. I scratched her that one time she went for a sneak attack on my belly. She was probably mad at me for drawing blood. That had to be it. I hadn't meant to, but you just don't do that to felines! You don't just reach in with your grubby little hand and try to stroke my underside! Why couldn't she get that through her head?
I had to win her back! I decided to make an apology note. I nudged some markers off of the dining room table and pulled some paper out of a nearby notebook with my teeth. With my pet's taste for abstract art, she would surely be won over by the sincerity of my heartfelt apology, and she would come back to me.
The front door opened. The pet walked in carrying her black leather satchel, lunch tote, and purse.
"Where were you?" I cried, but she ignored me. She went to the dining room table, dropped her bags, and headed for the den.
I followed her.
I nudged her with my head and asked again: "Hey, where the hell were you?!"
"God, Zeus. Leave me alone. I just got back from class."
I headbutt her in her shin for good measure. I was so pissed!
"I mean it," she said. "Leave me alone. I'm tired as hell. Monday night, and now tonight. C'mon, just go lay down somewhere."
Not again! I thought we were over this foolishness! There's no need for her to become any smarter than me, and yet she persists in going.
Well, she'll see. I'm just going to have plans then on Monday and Wednesday nights. That'll show her. If she wants to see me, then she'll just have to come and find me. I'll show her what it's like to wait for someone all night long, worried sick, wondering if he's even dead.
Yeah, she'll be sorry. She'll come crawling right back to me, begging me to take her back.
And when she does, I might just be too busy for her.
As Beyonce says: I can have another you by tomorrow so don't you ever for a second get to thinkin' you're irreplaceable...