The Boy was gone all weekend to play with trains. Kitten Thunder was not happy. For one thing, many boxes of train stuff was taken out on Friday morning. Oliver was in a panic, maybe thinking we were moving. He wouldn’t let me hold him, probably trying to keep me from saying goodbye and thus keeping me from leaving.
Half an hour later I was at my desk, working. Oliver calmed down, a little.
Friday night, Oliver spent much of the night prowling the house and calling for The Boy. He’d come back to bed for a while. Then he was off again. “Boy! We’re in bed!”
Exhausted, Oli has spent a lot of the day sleeping.
Obi has reacted by being super lovey. We snuggled all last evening. We snugggled for most of the day. Obi even laid in my arms, in Oli’s normal spot, for hours. Impressive for a kitten with a five minute attention span.
The Boy has been home for half an hour. He caught a cold while he was gone and Oliver is sitting next to him, weighing the risk of cooties against his obligation to administer purr therapy.
Obi’s belly has been properly rubbed for the first time in days…no offense, Girl.
I am also happy to see The Boy, of course. I’ve shared the leftover drugs from my bout with the six-week crud.
Tomorrow we will all wake to the world as it should be. Together.