“Now don’t you be causing all kinds of trouble while we are out.”
Her pale face close, hands warm on his neck, Whiskers felt comfort mixed with a tinge of panic. With everyone gone for two nights, he’d miss their company. Susie always played the dangling feather game—it made her laugh, so Whiskers played along, happy to see her delighted.
He would miss the feeding sounds, each bringing its own spark of joy. His favorite: the food tumbling into the dish, like rain on a driveway. The tearing of tiny containers signaled the arrival of flavors—a progression of sounds, each stage delivering anticipation and happiness. He often replayed that chorus in his dreams.
He'd also miss the turning of metal handles—a sound that, with Susie’s small hands, filled him with warmth.
No, instead, he would have an unlimited supply of kibble. Not nearly as much fun.
The Jones family was leaving their beloved pet, Whiskers, home alone for the weekend. While he would miss the regular routine, the scratchies, the bird-part game, the food feedings, he was looking forward to the adventure only available when he had the house to himself.
“Dan, did you pack a tie? Bring a few; that yellow one and the fun black check one - so we can have options.”
Marion was stomping around the home with a sense of seriousness and intention. From room to room, grabbing items, reviewing the list, barking orders. She ran everything all the time. There was no detail ever left unplanned, unaccounted for, or unanalyzed. She smiled and laughed regularly, but her underlying seriousness and rigor could not be frosted over with any smile, despite how hard she tried.
The discrepancy between how she thought she projected herself into the world and how the world received her was startling. It would regularly reveal itself to her through others' looks, responses, and behaviors, and it shook her to the core. It was something she couldn't access, and it was terrifying. In her mind, she was…
“I packed the black one. That should be fine.”
Mark tried to convey confidence in his statement, but inside, he felt a persistent sense of discouragement. He believed that whatever he said would never be enough. His views, thoughts, or opinions seemed powerless to sway public opinion in the Jones household. Mark knew this deep down, but he still acted as if he mattered, hoping maybe one day he would truly feel included and valued.
“Let's just decide the tie I will be wearing and pack that one,” he added.
“If you pack a few options, it will make the dressing-up time more interesting and fun. Like a moment. Can't you make it fun for once?” Marion barked
“ok“
Now Mark understood: the plan for the pre-wedding party in the hotel room was supposed to be “fun.”
It was always helpful to know the rules ahead of time. Still, he sensed that reality would not live up to the promised fun.
A clear picture came to mind. Marion’s sister would probably be there as they tried to have “fun” getting ready. He could already hear the buzz of conversation.
Susie grabbed Whiskers' cheeks with her inner palms, fingertips massaging the back of his head, thumbs wiping his eyes like they had sleep to clear. His face was so warm, and she could feel his adorable cat bones in her hand. It felt like a way to grab hold of love.
“None of your crazy parties - while we are gone,” she teased. Susie loved to imagine that Whiskers lived an adventurous life while he was home alone. It made her happy to think that he had more going on than just napping on the sunny window seat.
“Susie, I think your imagination is too much. I hope you are not sharing these wacky cat scenarios with the kids in school - they are going to think you are weird.” Marion belted out as she zipped past her, holding a neatly stacked pile of workout clothes.
“Marion - come on, she is just having fun and being silly.” Mark rubbed Susie's head.
“I know she’s just being silly and all, but some people might take her ideas wrong.”
“I bet Whiskers even invites that raccoon that gets into our trash for parties, “ he jokingly whispered to Susie.
Whiskers was Susie's favorite thing; she loved him more than her schoolwork, her piano playing, and even her friend Lisa. Whiskers arrived as a Christmas gift two years ago when Susie was 10. He was intended to be a surprise, but Susie knew about his upcoming arrival. Susie played along with it because she knew the surprise was the best gift her parents had for themselves.
No one in the Jones’ neighborhood had a cat. Pleasant Street was all dogs. Even the whole town of Woodbury was dog-only. Cats had a bad reputation because of the dump.
Woodbury had a sprawling dump—part auto scrapyard, part recycling center, part yard refuse, and part old dump. Cats were everywhere, sometimes escaping into the neighborhood. Adults called them "ferrels." Mr. Phelan, up the street, often left food out for them, seemingly buying cans just for the cats. Sussie once overheard her parents arguing about it.
“Why does he feed them? he is attracting them to our neighborhood - he’s making them dependent.”
“Maybe he's lonely, and he is looking for companionship.”
“That’s terrible, don’t say that. That can't be true - he is just a weird old man.”
Susie's first exposure to a pet cat was Princess, her cousin's cat. The Jones family was visiting Mark's sister.
“We are only staying for 1 hour. You know she doesn't like me.” Marion clarified on the half-hour drive to their home in Sleepford.
They arrived, and Susie noticed a cat. She felt confused and unsure.
“You have a cat - does he have a name?
“It’s a girl cat - her name is Princess.” Her cousin Marci shared.
The idea of a cat being a girl cat seemed so strange to Susie - she always thought of all of the cats she saw at the dump as boy cats. And to have a name like Princess - it seemed so silly to name a cat with such a name. That said, Princess seemed quite lovely. Very unlike the ferrels at the dump. Her coat was white and shiny with a few black spots on its face. Her tail wisped around like a feather. Her eyes were a vibrant green.
Princess walked up and pressed her warm face to Susie’s leg. It was a small interaction, but Susie sensed both power and wildness in her.
“Can I pet her?”
“Of course you can, dummy - she is trying to make you pet her.
Susie petted Princess
“She loves people - she likes a dog. Everyone says Princess was born in the wrong body; that should have been a dog. She is friendly like a dog.”
Susie stroked her fur and was surprised by how soft and silky it felt. For some reason, she expects a cat's fur to be rough.
‘She is so soft, and she seems really clean. Do you have to bathe her all the time?’
Macie giggled, “ No, silly, she cleans herself - with her tongue.”
Susie grimaced ’Yuck.”
“It’s not yucky - that is how cats bathe themselves. She licks herself all the time. She is really clean and doesn't smell.”
“Really?” Susie was getting a bit uncomfortable thinking her hands were touching dried cat spit.
“Really - smell her. Put your face in her back and smell her!” Marci directed
Susie hesitantly put her nose near Whiskers’ fur and sniffed. There was nothing- she didn't even smell like a dog. She got closer and sniffed again.”
“Put your nose in her fur and sniff silly!”
Susie did as she was told. Princess had no smell - it was shocking. She just assumed a cat would be dirty and smelly based on all of the cats she had seen at the dump. And the fact that the Process cleaned herself with the tongue was so interesting.
“Oh my gosh, that is so sweet.’ Susie chuckled.
“Yes. Cats have a special tongue that is like sandpaper; it's not soft, it is very rough, and it makes them very clean when they lick themselves.
“cool”
Susie looked at Princess, and she felt a warmth - she started to fall in love with the warm little animal sitting in her lap.
“You are lucky to have a princess. I think I would like a cat.”
” You should definitely get one - they are like a best friend that lives in your bedroom with you. Princess is my best friend.”
On the car ride back, Susie presented the idea of getting a cat to her parents.
“Mom, can I get a cat?”
“What?” Marion practically shrieked.
“Marci has a cat named Princess, and she is so cute. I want a best friend who lives in my bedroom like that.
Mark perked up, “Aww, Susie, that sounds wonderful - a best friend that is in your bedroom. I think I could use that!” Mark added
“Mark, stop it. Cats are dirty, and they smell. Why would we want that to live in our home? I spend too much time cleaning and tidying to have some mangy animal sticking the house and messing it up.”
“Marion, you don't clean, we have Agnes to do that,” Mark chimed in.
“But I manage her! And that is a lot of work. ”
“Cats don't smell. I put my nose into Princess’s fur, and she had no smell at all. And she was so sweet. Marci said they are best friends.”
“Of course, Cats smell - don't you see them running about the Woodbury dump?”
Mark looked back at Susie and whispered, “We will talk about it.”
The Jones family was attempting to exit through the front doorway. “Mark, did you bring the waters?” Marion was constantly worrying about hydration levels. She carried a stylish, colorful water bottle with her everywhere: to the gym, the store, the yoga studio. to the store, she had a collection of water bottles in a variety of colors to match her outfit. For this weekend, she was bringing 4 different water battles in a variety of colors and patterns.
They bought the water in individual plastic cases, opened them, added it to colorful, fashionable water bottles, and then placed the plastic in the recycling bin for disposal by the Woodbury Recycling Center.
“I brought 2 cases of water, they're in the hatch,” Mark said
“ok, I hope that is enough for 3 days. I cannot get dehydrated. Mark, put another case in the back - we are going to be away for 3 days - you know how important it is for me to stay hydrated.”
Finally, they all exited the home, and the door closed. The sound of their voices was still clear to whiskers through the open window,
“Yes, Marion, I know how important hydration is to you. I believe you have mentioned it.”
Whiskers watched this noisy exit through the large picture window in the living room from his favorite sunny, warm spot, perched on the back of the sofa. Marion, Mark, and Susie exited the front door down the walkway to the car. They carried bags and a suitcase. They looked so colorful as they got into the car, but this vibrance did not match the sadness that Whiskers felt for them. They were very unhappy, and this often made Whiskers unhappy as well.
Just as the car backed out of the driveway, Whislres heard the loud rumbling in the pine tree below the living room window. He glanced down to see three furry faces looking at him. Each of them was different, furry, handsome, and youthful. A Frank raccoon, a Sinclair rat, and a JB a squirrel. It was his 3 best friends.
“ok, they are gone, let's plan this dance party!” Frank exclaimed.