Well, for the love of fish sticks, says Bodine. There you are. Glad to see you finally remembered that I need to be fed, Chickie. Where the [expletive deleted] have you been all day?
All day? I ask. Bodine, we’ve been gone a week, dude. Although I do appreciate the warm welcome home. I peek over at the cat food bowls. And your bowl’s full of kibble, kiddo. Why the grief over hunger pangs?
|Interesting story, says Bodine. You should write a book.|
Bodine waddles over to the food bowl. Well [crunch crunch], he says, spewing kibble out the sides of his mouth, I had to ration myself. I didn’t know if you were coming back. Hey, by the way, Chickie, I left you a remembrance of me in the litter box. Go fish that out will ya? I’m heading that way next.
Sure thing, I say. Just let me set my suitcase down first, ok? I walk over to check the answering machine for messages. So, Bodine are you telling me that you didn’t get fed while we were gone? Here, I’ll call Lisa to see if she ran into any problems last week.
Naw, says Bodine. I didn’t say that. I just said I was [burp] pacing myself. Some Kibble Chick came by every day to pay homage to me. And I gotta say, she was a lot better about keeping the litter box clean than my usual . . . he pauses to look up at me. Wait, did you say a week?
Bodine, my love, I say. First of all, Lisa is a professional pet sitter, not a Kibble Chick to pay homage to the benevolent ruler of Sword House. And secondly, we were all gone. All of us. For a whole week. Even the dogs. So you just started to miss us yesterday?
That’s it!, he slaps his forehead with a paw. The dog bed’s missing! I knew something was different around here. You brought it back with you, right? I’m gonna want a nap after I recycle this little snack. Oh, take a minute to wipe off the counters next. They’re absolutely covered with fur and it’s messing with my Chi. Honestly, it’s like I’m the only one who notices how you can’t keep up with this mess. Like, um, the litter box. Still waiting on that mcnugget removal, you know.
Really? I ask. That’s your response, is it? You’re not even curious about where we’ve all been the last few days? Bodine? Hello?
Huh? says Bodine. Are you still talking? What? What’s that look for? Fine, but you know what they say about curiosity. It doesn’t end well for we of the feline persuasion. No prob, chickie, I’ll take one for the team, but you owe me now. Go ahead and tell me your bedtime story while I stretch out here on the counter . . . [oof] ok, ok, the cat bed then. Right, Once Upon a Time . . . you can take it from here.
|Nice view, says Jager. But I’m not getting any closer to that water stuff.|
It was a lovely vacation, I say with a sigh. We drove to Cedar Island; it’s a remote area of the southern outer banks of North Carolina. We were right by the bay, no crowds or touristy stuff to deal with. A glass of chilled white in the evenings while watching the seagulls from the deck. Oh, but the mosquitoes were pretty bad. We had to use bug spray if we were sitting outside for a while.
Uh huh, uh huh, nods Bodine. He pauses in his post-dinner cleaning ritual. Interesting stuff. You should write a book.
I ignore the biting feline sarcasm and continue. The dogs had a blast, of course. New smells to discover and all. Micron especially enjoyed the place; he really loved the water. Jager plotted in his terrier brain on how to catch a seagull and we had some wonderful opportunities to socialize Euka in the area. Oh, there was a storm that came through one day that changed our plans, but in a good way. And we saw wild horses and a wild cow. I don’t know, though. The cow might not have been wild, she seemed nice enough. We met some local fishermen and a lady who apologized for being part Yankee, like it was a bad thing. Which I guess it kinda is down there. I found out mud turtles have an attitude. Is that a turtletude, then? Oh yeah, just wait till I tell you about when Euka stole my toothbrush . . . Bodine?
zzzzzz[snert], says Bodine.
Ok, sure, I say. Let’s save the stories for another time. I want to get some unpacking done and we can sort through the photos later. Sleep tight, little furball. You’ll need your rest now that the dogs are back to torment.
|Where are the dog paddles for the canoe? snorts Micron.|