So as those of you who have cats can attest, cats always know when you’re leaving. They know the symbolic meaning of dragging a particular bag out from under the bed, folding clothes into them, and zipping. Perhaps they sense the exitement, or trepidation, or whatever feeling you always have before a trip. I’m not sure.
My cats are certainly no exception. Last night, they were both impossibly cute, constantly demanding of affection, rolling around for stomach rubs and such. As I paused less frequently to appease them as the evening wore on, realizing just how much left I had to do before I left, they became less cute and more annoying, culminating in some petty tussling between themselves that left Twitch with some scratches on his left ear, and Sam with some on his neck, which led to some claw-clipping on my part.
This morning, my cats, who have previously shown no interest in my bike, decided today of all days was the day to discover that gear-cogs are excellent back-scratching devices. So they both now sport bike-oil streaks on several locations on their bodies. Hopefully, bike oil is not deadly to cats, because some quick attempts to remove the oil with a warm, wet washcloth were to no avail, and I’d imagine that once they calm down after my departure, some thorough cleaning will be going on.
Looking for a place to happen