Dixie and I long ago accepted the fact that the tiny human now known as Cooper will be living with us for the foreseeable future. But over the weekend something happened. Something that started out to be wonderful and ended with crushed dreams and dashed hopes.
Friday started out like a normal day. The people left the house and took the baby with them and I lounged and stared out the window for the next twelve hours or so. Later that night, much later than usual, the parentals came home…but the little one wasn’t with them. I assumed they’d forgotten the little noise maker somewhere and would rush off to go get him as soon as they realized their mistake. I certainly wasn’t going to bring it to their attention. But they never did. They went about their bedtime routine minus the thing that never shuts up and went to bed. I was even allowed to sleep next to Mom! I assumed my rightful place with my head resting in her hand while she slept. Could it be? I was afraid to let my thoughts wander to the possibility that they might have grown tired of the little monster and took him back to whatever road they found him on the side of. But I DID let my thoughts wander there. And they wandered even farther than that the next morning when Mom woke up and read a book for an hour in bed. It had to be happening. The tiny human had taken up residence elsewhere, exactly where I cared not, and things would go back to normal and I would once again be worshipped and adored. They talked about getting lunch and shopping and left the house again.
They came home that afternoon with leftovers from Ruby Tuesday, jeans from Old Navy…and the tiny bane of my existence. He was back. All the cat nip in all the Pet Smarts in all the world could not take the edge off my bitter disappointment. A cruel joke. Gus doesn’t like jokes.