Seclusion delusion.

I am officially a hermit!

No more coming home to Bubble greeting me by flopping around on the floor blissfully. No more catering to Enfoiré’s hunger before having him reward me with cuddles.

I no longer have pets to pet.

I can freely toss my hoodies over a chair without worrying about Enfoiré swallowing a piece of the drawstring, requiring a vet visit, as has happened before. No more waking up at 5am to the cats vaulting off me in a plea for crunchies. No more sopping up cat vomit with my socks while they’re on my feet. I can leave the bathroom door open without the cats sneaking in there to gnaw on the shower curtain liner. My electronic chargers, hair bands, and bra straps are no longer enticing snacks that need to be stored away.

Bubble was fussy and demanding, while Enfoiré had an eating disorder that ruled his demeanor. Despite their flaws, they were the best cats I’ve ever had.

Continue reading “Seclusion delusion.”