To take my mind off of how much I'm going to miss the cats, and how they will miss me (the four boys, that is), I'm trying to frame this trip as Wendy's Vacation From Me.
Lucky Wendy will get a whole week without Evil Mommy around to bother her and possibly Cause Her to Die.
Wendy as a foster kitten in 2009.
As our vet said, "You saved her sorry ass...."
Wendy hates me. I don't know why. I love her, I'm unfailingly nice to her, I talk and sing to her, and feed her, and toss her treats since he hates to take them from my hand. We do not brush her teeth because she thinks it's Murder. When I sweet-talk her, she puts her ears back and slinks low across the floor because she doesn't like me paying attention to her. If I approach her, she takes off while I'm still a few feet away.
I AM allowed to adjust her food bowl while she's eating, so it's easier for her to get to her entire dinner. This is ALL I am allowed to do. I can't figure that one out.
The other morning, I sang her the Wendy Song (don't ask) and kept up a cheerful patter about what a nice pussycat she was, and how beautiful, and so on, while she looked at me, worried and wary. She finally started squeaking in response — hardly any sound coming out as she aired her grievances. Her pupils were dilated, her ears were perturbed and she looked so pained because I was aware of her existence. She'll watch me stroke and praise any of the boys on the bed when she's there, and they'll stretch out and purr and enjoy it. But if I reach out the same gentle hand to her, it's terrifying and she's gone.
The four boys will miss me, but they will have each other for head baths, cuddling, playtime, and hanging out. Wendy will miss her daddy. He's petting her as I write this, in one of their two Designated Safe Petting Spots (1, Leather Armchair, 2. Bed, at Night, When Evil Mommy Is Far Away). There, he can pet her for ages while she gives him hand baths. Must be nice.
I'm not sure how much posting I will do in Maine, but you can expect some postcards sooner or later.