Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Missing Out

My sister comes to visit tomorrow. Now, I'm kind of glad I cleaned all the bedding, the countertops, the floors, sanitized the litter boxes, and got the carpets cleaned because the cats had giardia. (I didn't have giardia, by the way. I can stop visualizing parasites any time now.) Stuff is pretty much ready for her to see. You know, the sniff test, the cream-colored glove test. I'll have to run the broom in front of the litter boxes for the barefoot-on-the-fake-wood-flooring test. It's a hard life I lead. Truly.

It's not the kind of cleaning I'd do if my mother were coming. Two years ago, when my mother came to visit, Mike announced that we were going to have the flooring redone for half the house. We hired landscapers. And we rented a storage unit. He talked about revitalizing the kitchen but realized we didn't have time to get the permits.

For my sister, things will be more relaxed. She can witness some of my teetering piles of books. She can gaze at my stately weeds.

The sad part is that Blitz is going to be on red-alert-invisible mode for the whole week. She hasn't met Blitz yet. She probably won't. Today, when the carpet cleaners arrived, he skedaddled under the bed downstairs and didn't come out until two hours after they left. When he finally showed his little face, he touched one paw to the damp carpet and ran back into the far bedroom for another hour. He's in his cat tree recovering now.

My sister isn't going to get to see how he rolls onto his back with his tubby belly wiggling and flattening out on the floor. My sister isn't going to see how he hangs his head upside down to play with me from the highest perch on the cat tree. My sister isn't going to see how he jumps onto my lap on the couch and lines himself along the length of me and always, always puts his front right paw on my left breast. Then, he stares into my eyes and make the tiniest of sighs when he's been thoroughly petted and just wants to sit with me feeling the love while I watch television with Mike.

My sister is going to miss all that.

Occasionally, when one of Nick's friends is over and they're focused on the video game in front of them, Blitz will be brave and walk behind the couch and cuddle up with my feet as I sit at the computer. But that's only when they ignore him. That's only one extra person in the room. That's only for relatively quiet people who aren't talking double-speed and almost double-volume.

My sister and I aren't quiet. Neither is my niece. That kind of chatter, even though I'm part of it, will drive Blitz from the room, down the stairs, and into the farthest, darkest, and quietest part of the house. He will search for a tunnel escape.

Poor kid. My sister would have loved the way he talks to me in the morning when I'm not feeding him fast enough. Blitz is never going to feel the joy of being adored by my sister.

Thank you for listening, jb

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