I love cats. They fill crevices in my heart with warmth. But they’re animals. I’m not really their mother.
So why do I worry about them more than I remember worrying about my kids?
Case In Point
We planned our week away several months in advance. And I contracted someone to stay at the house with my three little fur babies.
When the sitter cancelled a month before our trip, my first response was, “I’m not going to be able to go on this trip.”
My husband looked at me like I’d grown an arm out of the middle of my forehead. “We’ll get someone else.”
But there’s no one.
Because I really want this person to adore cats as much as I do. And I want to be comfortable imagining them alone in my house.
Am I expecting too much?
Needless to say, I don’t recall ever thinking I would cancel a vacation to stay home with my kids. Maybe if they had been sick.
But one time, my youngest had a bad fall and got stitches two days before I was supposed to leave to join my husband in Washington, DC.
My mother was keeping our sons. She insisted that I go on the trip.
I’d like to say she really had to twist my arm. But she didn’t. I wanted to be convinced it was fine for me to leave my small children.
But these cats?
“They do so much better when someone stays with them.”
I love cats for their independence. And my cats are as snooty as any Egyptian god or goddess.
But when we left them for a week and had my father-in-law check in on them daily, they pooped on the chair, destroyed a few items and sprayed my husband’s shoes.
It made coming home an instant relaxation reversal.
Another time, we had some neighbor kids come over and sit with them for a couple hours every day.
This time it was the bed that got used as a litter box. And the television and lights were left on. For how long we’ll never know.
So my husband’s plan to have the neighbor stop in daily to feed, water and clean their box wasn’t looking very pleasant.
Thankfully, my adult sons live nearby. Although they’d rather stay at their own place, they know and love the cats. It’s not too unreasonable for my youngest to commute from my house rather than his. He can even bring his cat (she loves playing with my cats).
As relief floods my chest when this plan comes together, I wonder, “What sort of person am I?”
Who worries more about leaving their cats alone than leaving their kids?
Although my kids were always with grandparents or other responsible adults.
Shouldn’t I want the same for my fur babies?
Maybe the relief I feel has more to do with coming home to no unwelcome presents.
That’s what I tell myself.
That and “You’re the best cat mother ever!”
What do you worry about when you go on vacation?
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