My Furry Representation

They say that dogs look like their owners.  We’ve all seen the pictures of a woman with the same hair-do as her poodle, or a guy with the same kind of droopy mouth as his basset hound.  I don’t know if people say the same about cats and their owners.  Well I don’t really look very much like The Bish.  He’s furry and black all over, with the exception of the one white whisker that has recently popped out of his left cheek.  I am a brunette, not so furry and have no whiskers (not that I’m admitting to).  One thing we do share is a bit of a stomach, but that’s only down to our love of food.

But right now we are more alike than you could ever imagine.  I haven’t been able to stop crying; he hasn’t stopped miaowing and pulling up the carpet.  He keeps searching everywhere for that one thing he just can’t seem to find; ditto.

I am sure he is picking up on my stress.  Pets do have a way of reacting to their owner’s behaviour.  He just won’t settle and I guess that is like me.  I am forever searching for the one thing I can’t seem to have.  Why is it that when you know you can’t have something, you just want it even more?

I will do what I can to try to calm him, comfort him, offer him what I can to ease his pain.  Speak of the devil – he’s just walked into my bedroom.  He won’t come up to the bed for a cuddle like he so often does.  He’s now sat on the ottoman in my bay window, which is finally clear to sit on after my dejunking session yesterday.  He’s looking out the window which overlooks the street.  He’s not allowed to go out the front of the house, so for him all he can do is gaze out of the window at what he imagines is the greener grass on the other side.  Perhaps he gets that from me.  The grass isn’t always greener of that which you cannot see – but you can dream.

 

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