I think I'm experiencing working mother guilt. Cat sitting for a friend this week, I am constantly questioning whether anything I do is enough. I try to hang out at my friend's house at least a couple of hours each day, just so the cats have human company. The boys are all over me, purring, inspecting the computer in my lap, batting at jingle balls, and disappearing under the back deck (bad kitty!) when I let them outside.
My cats must sense my attention is divided because they've both suddenly become all "We love you and need you and can't live without you," this week. Even our neighbor's cat, who never lets me do more than a quick pat on his head, has taken to flopping down on his back whenever he sees me, begging me to spend time rubbing his belly.
I'd rejoice, but wow, this is a lot of time with cats. Everyone wants 30-minute combings and massages. No one seems impressed when I tell them I have e-mails to answer or that I haven't eaten yet today. Hurt feelings abound when I come home smelling of other cats. It's all very stressful.
And yet, of course, I'm loving it. Cats everywhere! Little kitty paws and faces! I get nose licks from my friend's cat and everyone is purring. Everything and everyone is cute and round and furry. How can people not like cats? The very idea is simply beyond me.
I was up before 5 today, over at the friends house to spend time with the cats before I head into Greensboro. Then I came home and combed my two girls. When I return around 10 tonight, I'll repeat the routine.
Life is good.