Talk To My Back, Lady!

We tempted the Gawds with a road trip across provincial lines during the time of Plague.  And while the Gawds couldn’t be bothered with our trivial rebellion, Teddy had a differing opinion.

It’s The Viking’s fault, really.  He’s always wheeling and dealing, trading this thing for that thing.  I can’t keep up.  He is perpetually in the midst of several complicated barter agreements with shadowy people I may or may not know.  And it was one of these transactions, which involved a generator, some sundry motorcycle parts for the seller of said generator and $500.  Now that Weather has decided to indulge in Spring, The Viking wants to get Generator installed in Fifth Wheel Trailer in the slight hope that we might be able to take it camping this summer.

So, we got our shit together – hand sanitizer, disinfectant in a spray bottle, toilet paper*, and non-alcoholic (sadly) drinks.  It was 4 hours to get there, probably an hour waiting/chatting (with 6-foot social distancing of course), and another 4 hours back.  We’d be home for dinner.

And we were.  Right on time.  Izzie shouted** greetings at us but Teddy was nowhere to be seen.  I didn’t think about it much because he’s not the ‘rush-to-the-door’ kind of guy; he prefers to strike a dignified pose by the refrigerator and give me a chin nod and ‘love eyes’.  I just assumed he didn’t hear us come home and would show up on time for dinner.

That didn’t happen though.  The Viking quizzed Izzie….

“Where the fuck is Teddy?”

“Who cares?” was her response, and then, “I notice you haven’t fed me yet.  Tick, Tock!”

While The Viking was dishing out food, I called for Teddy.  “Suppertime, Teddy!”  That’s usually enough because food is extremely important after the year he spent living on the mean streets of Homelessness.

Eventually he wandered close to the back door, studiously refusing to look at me.  “Are you coming in?”  He just sat there looking at the neighbour’s house.  “Okay, fine!  I’m not standing here all night holding the door open.”

I still didn’t realize that Teddy was angry.  It was 3 hours later, when he sat down in the middle of the livingroom without looking at me that everything started to click into place.  His customary entrance in the evening is a chubby trot followed by a full body slam into my lap.

“Are you mad at me, Teddy?”  To be honest, I was a little shocked.  We named him Teddy Bear because that’s exactly what he is.  He’s sweet and gentle and lovey.  He’s the best cat on the planet.  Except for an itty-bitty, teeny-weeny streak of stubborn.

His answer was to deliberately turn his back on me.

I probably didn’t help matters when I started to laugh, but in my defense I’ve never seen him angry before.  “Oh, come on, Teddy Bear!  You can’t be mad at me.”  And yet, he was.

My previous cat would get angry with me but all it took was a cuddle and she couldn’t help herself but forgive me.   Apparently, Teddy is made of sterner stuff.

“We were only gone for 8 hours and 25 minutes!  You can’t be mad about that!”

……

“Seriously?  You aren’t going to talk to me because I was gone for a few hours?”

……

I picked him up and tried to give him a love.  He actually braced his front feet against my boobs and strained his head and shoulders away from me!!  “Oh, come on!  I’m sorry!”

……

I appealed to The Viking.  “He’s mad!  At me!”  The Viking was totally unhelpful and, most likely, secretly amused because the cats never blame me for anything – he’s always the ‘Fall Guy’.  As soon as I put Teddy down, he turned his back on me again but didn’t leave the room.  I suppose this was his version of a ‘lecture’ since I couldn’t help but see him with his back turned, full of indignation.

“It’s not even my fault!  It’s The Viking’s fault!  He was the one that bartered himself into a road trip and forced me to go along.”

……

“I wanted to stay home.  With you.”

……

“I would have cuddled you all day long, but The Viking said it was more important for me to keep him company.”

……

“Honestly!  I cried all the way to Longview!”

……

“He tied me up so I couldn’t get away!”

……

“I was a hostage!”

……

“You’re going to hold a grudge against a Victim?!”

……

Sheesh!  You would think I had pinched his Airmiles Card!

He didn’t look directly at me for the entire evening.  Not a single ‘love eye’ or brush against my leg.  The Viking, on the other hand, was the surprised recipient of many ‘love eyes’ and even a body slam to his lap accompanied by deafening purrs.

I’m not sure who wanted me to notice more – the angry cat or the pleasantly surprised Viking.

 

*I decided to rely on rest area pit toilets and severe liquid rationing to limit my contact with any Plague Carriers.

**Shouting is her permanent speaking tone, with or without swearing and name-calling.