I’m leaving for a trip in a week. I’m sitting on the couch, watching my cat. I’m imagining her here, alone, wondering where I am. Crying out in a futile attempt to find me. I’m thinking about everything that could (or maybe even physically couldn't) go wrong. A candle spontaneously combusting. Her turning the stovetop on with an accidental push of her paw and the heat of it burning her or somehow starting a fire. I’m thinking about how scared she'd be, alone, in the corner, retreated from the flames wondering why I left her, why I did this to her, searching frantically for me.
The Cat in the Window
The Cat in the Window
The Cat in the Window
I’m leaving for a trip in a week. I’m sitting on the couch, watching my cat. I’m imagining her here, alone, wondering where I am. Crying out in a futile attempt to find me. I’m thinking about everything that could (or maybe even physically couldn't) go wrong. A candle spontaneously combusting. Her turning the stovetop on with an accidental push of her paw and the heat of it burning her or somehow starting a fire. I’m thinking about how scared she'd be, alone, in the corner, retreated from the flames wondering why I left her, why I did this to her, searching frantically for me.