I want to play with him, pounce on him to surprise him, but I can’t find him. I search for him everywhere, checking every room, upstairs and downstairs, but I don’t know where he is.
The woman makes deep groaning sounds that make me cringe. Then her breaths become shallow and quick. When I go to her, she scoops me up and hugs me. Her shoulders shake and her face is wet when she kisses me. Usually, she gives me so many kisses. Lately, she hugs me tightly, kisses me once and then lets me go.
I walk toward the man and hop up onto his lap. He pets me and swallows. He keeps petting me until I nip at his hand to let him know it’s enough – for now. And then I fall asleep.
When I wake up from my nap, I jump off the man’s lap. It’s time to eat.
Then it’s time to play! Surely, I will find him now. I sniff around all his usual spots – the end cushion on the couch, under the table where the humans eat, the awesome cardboard box by the door – but he isn’t in any of them. I even check both of the humans’ laps again, but he’s not there.
I stop and listen for him. He’s usually pretty noisy – talking, talking, talking – his meows light and chirpy, except when he’s getting a bath and they get much deeper and mournful. But now it’s just quiet.
It’s so strange. He has never spent this much time away from the humans. He seems to always have their attentions. I have to push my way in sometimes or try to get to one of them first. But he isn’t with either of them now.
I go to the woman again, and she picks me up and hugs me. I give her some purrs in return. She tells me how grateful they are that I’m here, but her face is wet again and she looks off into the distance when she talks.
I wish my humans would be more upbeat and playful again, like they used to be.
And I wish I knew where my buddy was. He’s missing. And it’s wrong. I pick up less and less of his scent around the house, and I don’t know why I’m the only one searching for him.