I’m so pathetic. Every time I leave my house to do whatever it is I have to do, I have this strange tugging at my heart. Most people would recognize it as homesickness or a deep longing, bordering on despair. But to me? I know exactly what it is: I miss my cats. I leave my cats behind to go about my day. They realize what I’m doing halfway through doing it. I’ll yank my jacket on, tug on my shoelaces, and there they’ll be – sitting on the WiFi router box, and I swear they’re pouting. I run my fingers over their heads, scratch a little between their ears and prop their chin with my knuckle and say, “I love you.” Then I lock my door, walk out the building and I can still feel them. “Mommy? Where did you go? Why aren’t you cuddling with me? Rubbing my belly? Picking me up and twirling me around? Can’t we hang out all day watching TV and napping? Why are you leaving me? I promise we can watch Doctor Who!” Oh, just fucking kill me.
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