Drat that Cat!

My beloved little guy, Jasper, decided for some unearthly reason that Wednesday night would be THE PERFECT night to break his hip.

Thanks, Jasper. I have to say, Isabella is having a fine old time being an only cat right now. It's going to be pretty hard for her to handle you finally returning home on Tuesday. Don't be surprised if she treats you shabbily. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think she orchestrated the whole thing to get rid of you. She certainly doesn't miss you.

But I do. It was entirely too easy getting ready for work today. I didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn to open the bedroom shade so you could look out the window and stare at the mourning doves that perch on the fire escape.

I didn't have to get you out of the bathtub after you jumped in and sprawled under the faucet like you do every morning.

I didn't have to fight for sink space when I put on my make-up this morning and I didn't have to hide my blush brush right away so you wouldn't eat it. I didn't have to untangle your claws from my necklace or fish my hair band out of your mouth.

I didn't have to go through the closets before I left to pull out the stuffed mice you batted under the doors.

I didn't have to do anything except get ready for work.

I don't like that. I miss your distractions and your curiosity. I hope, my little happy cat, that you are still just as curious and michevious when you return as you were before you hurt yourself.