Our dog has figured things out. We pretty much only leave the house now to take her on walks. Now, every time someone puts their shoes one, she gets excited. She’s going to be sad when this is over. Eventually.
We also have two cats. A nice one and a mean one. They are either best friends or worst enemies–roles that change back and forth throughout the day with little or no notice. In order to keep our animals out of the living room of our house, we have it gated off. One of our ycats (the nice one, who is not only nice, but who also does not scratch furniture) camp jump the gate and get into the living room. Our mean cat is also rather, um…. Well, she’s fat. (Probably because she steals all the other cat’s food) and because of her heftiness she cannot leap over the gate. That was our intent because, in addition to be fat and mean, this cat also likes to scratch furniture. (At this point, you are probably wondering why we keep her. But the truth is this cat exceptionally cute. And, let’s face it, cute matters.) Anyway, it has come to my attention over the past 1.5 million days of quarantine that the nice cat tends to spend much of his day in the living room while the mean one cries at him from the other side the gate.
I have always thought I’d grow up to be an old cat lady, and this blog entry pretty much assures me that I am well on my way.