Dad: Sakura Mom: Eunbi ++++++++++++  

 

 

They just left me.     Left me alone.     One second we were sitting on the couch, I was sitting in Dad’s lap because Mom’s gotten so round. And then they’re both getting up and hurrying out and they don’t even say goodbye.     It’s not abnormal for them to leave me alone. That happens. But they don’t usually rush out and they do usually make sure that the food bowl is full before they go. Or they bring me to The Catto and the colony where I will have company. But they rarely just leave me.  

 

I am annoyed.     And more than a little, betrayed.     I meow as plaintively as I can. Somewhere else in the apartment, I hear the Rolling One beep back. They tend to leave the Rolling One behind when they go on longer trips, so I am mildly mollified. The Rolling One also knows how to feed me. Indeed, my meowing leads the Rolling One to feed me. And change my water. I meow some more. The Rolling One beeps at me, but I cannot understand it. I can sometimes understand Mom and Dad when they make their human noises at me, but they are more effective at getting their point across than the Rolling One.  

 

I wait.  

 

I wait two whole days but there is no sign of Mom or Dad.  

 

I sleep in the comfy bed they made for me in the room down the hall from their bedroom. It’s walls are freshly decorated and there’s a device with dangling stars over the bed. The bed is perfectly cat sized. I thought they loved me. I thought they cared about me. It makes me sad to sleep in the bed now that they just left, but I don’t want to go sleep in their bed while they’re gone. That will only make me feel worse.  

 

I poop on the floor of the fresher in protest, something that always annoys Dad. I don’t usually do it on purpose. It’s usually an accident because sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do. But since they have abandoned me without warning, and keep not coming back—now it’s on purpose. I also knock over Mom’s toolbox and drag her toys around the apartment so that they’re sitting right by the door so she will know my displeasure.  

 

Cats have power. Just because they are bigger and stronger than me doesn’t mean this isn’t also my home, and doesn’t mean they can just do whatever they want to me. They keep pretending to care about me. They pet me, and feed me, and take me out for short flights, and give me things to play around and climb, and bring home torn up fabrics for me to re-bed with. And abandon me at the drop of a hat.   Yeah, I’m gonna poop in the fresher.       -------------------       It is three days later they come back.  

 

I meow when I hear them on the other side of the door.  

 

“You have her head?” Mom asks.  

 

“I have her head.” Dad replies. They’re both speaking so softly, so gently.   I meow again.  

 

“It’s ok, Maru.” Mom calls. “We’re home. We’re home and you have a sister.”  

 

“She doesn’t have a sister.” Dad grumbles.     “Hush. She’s our first child.”     “She’s a cat. A tsundere one at that.” The door opens and there they are and Dad takes a step forward before freezing and frowning. There is something in her arms. “Someone wasn’t excited we just left her.” She says.     “Careful.” Mom says looking around.     “Could you—”     “Oh, right.” And Dad holds out her hand and does that thing she does where she just makes things move and suddenly the toys that I had so carefully strewn throughout the entryway are floating in the air and dropping inelegantly into a pile by the door.     Dad shuffles through the entryway. She doesn’t take off her coat, doesn’t take off her shoes, even though she usually does both of those things when she comes home. She goes into the room they’ve been re-beding, -the one they put my bed in-, and I hop after her, curious. Dad doesn’t usually go in there when she gets home. She goes to the fresher to wash her hands. I want her to go to the fresher. I want her to see the signs of my displeasure.     Mom follows her and a moment later they are both standing next to the box of soft things and Dad is putting something in it. Something that’s wrapped in a blanket, and has a hat. It makes a noise I recognize --a wait no you’re moving me-- noise. I spy a pink arms flapping in the air and Mom reaches out to tuck it under the blanket.     That’s when I remember that Mom was round when she left and she is not nearly as round now.     “Welcome home, Wony.” Mom whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to the thing. Dad is now taking off her coat, toeing off her shoes. Then she wraps an arm around Mom’s shoulder and presses a kiss to the side of her head.       ---------------       I do not like it.     Wony.     Wony is a small human. I think. It’s much scrunchier in its face than Mom and Dad are. Mom and Dad walk around. They talk. They use the fresher. They pet me.     Wony wails.     And poops.     And hiccups.     And they always do what it wants. Which just isn’t fair. I have been here longer, but they don’t do what I want whenever I meow. They tell me to be quiet. (Dad was very annoyed about the pooping in the fresher, so at least I have some power). But every time Wony starts wailing—     “Is that her hungry cry?” Dad asks as Mom groans and sits up. Wony wails a lot and Mom and Dad haven’t been getting a lot of sleep. I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep either, but I sleep less than they do to begin with. I think it’s because they are so big and I am so small. But Wony is the same size as me and she sleeps erratically. I think they should return her. She is clearly defective. I have told this to the Rolling One but the Rolling One disagrees. The Rolling One doesn’t need to sleep.     “Isn’t it always her hungry cry?” Mom groans as she stumbles out of the bedroom and down the hall to Wony’s bed. I hop after her. She sounds annoyed. Maybe if she gets so annoyed at it, she will get rid of her.     “Hey, sweet girl.” Mom says as she eases Wony out of her bed and into her arms. Her face is scrunchier and redder than usual, and she is waving her fat paws in the air. Mom tugs her shirt down over her chest and presses Wony’s mouth against it. Wony stops crying.     I hear Dad coming up behind me. She has very heavy footsteps because she is bigger than me. It used to scare me, but not anymore.     “Your daughter is just like you.” Mom tells Dad.     “I stop crying when I get to on your ?” Dad says and Mom snorts.     “I was going to say she doesn’t like sleeping through the night.”     Dad crosses the room and sits down in the rocking chair. She reaches her hands forward and pulls Mom onto her lap, wrapping her arms around her waist and pressing her face into Mom's neck.     “Good view?” Mom asks and now Dad snorts.     “I’ll wa