Home, sweet home

I survived the rigors of travel. Didn’t want to leave Mel, but a dude’s gotta do what a dude’s gotta do.

And I missed my cat. More than she missed me, according to Dad. You feeds them, you pets them, you misses them when you’re away, and the little so-and-so forgets you the moment the door closes behind your back.

But then, the moment I came into the house yesterday evening, she started meowing for my attention. “Pet me! Pet me! Pet me! I haven’t had any pettings in two weeks!” (She doesn’t let Dad pet her.) She might not have missed me (or at least not let that show), but she does remember me.

Now she is lying on the bed on top of my pyjamas. All is right in her world.

“Yes, pettings! I have my human well trained.”