It’s been five days. I’ve neither bathed nor slept. Well, I mean, I have, but not well. Or thoroughly. MomFOD is still away. I grow weary of the slop DadFOD prepares for us. Although it is the exact same product that MomFOD puts into our bowls, DadFOD doesn’t do it quite right. The angle of the bowl, the way he breathes as the food defrosts – I don’t know. It’s just not as good.
I weigh myself to make sure that I remain the same so that MomFOD recognizes me when she returns.
I weigh nothing. Nothing.
Hours are months.
I know no solace outside of her arms.
I don’t even have the strength for an exclamation mark today. MomFOD has been gone since yesterday morning. I am alone. I mean, I have Rocky, Niles, Mrs. P and Doodle. Oh, and DadFOD. But I am utterly alone.
Last night, I tried to snuggle DadFOD like I do MomFOD, but he just doesn’t get it. He petted me in reverse, left to right. Unthinkable. And look. Look at this:
DadFOD needs a chart so he can remember to do everything around here. I lose faith in his care taking skills as the minutes tick by. And do you know where MomFOD is? Do you?
I’ll let you guess. It’s 80 degrees there today. That’s your first clue.
I will persevere, here, under the couch, until she returns.