We had to move out of the house for the weekend and we moved Tahlullah to my mother’s house with us. No cat prints on the varnish. She wasn’t pleased. She slunk and hid for the first day. She has always known that her small size puts her more on the prey-side of the world than the predator-side, and she only explored my parent’s house for the weekend at night, but her dependency on my routine showed itself early Sunday morning.
My husband and I had vacated for a night, versus having eight of us crowded into my parent’s place, and we called Sunday morning to see how the night had been. “Tahlullah was the perfect alarm clock,” my eight-year-old stated, “at exactly the wrong time.” Apparently at about six, Sunday morning...marking time...Tahllulah was up yeowling. “She’d meow ten times in a row one way, take a break and meow ten times in a row another way.”
My twelve-year-old explained to my mother that Tallulah just missed me. “It’ll be better tomorrow, Grandma. Mom always gets up early to work and Tahllulah is just looking for her.” My daughter was right. It was better that next day. We were still at my parents, but I got up early to work, at her kitchen table with my computer, books and coffee. Tahllulah twined through my feet purring. She nibbled on the computer corner.
“Soon,” I thought, “Soon I’ll be purring too.” I just hope that for the two weeks we have let, I don’t start yeowling at all the people in my life who support me so kindly and so well. Two weeks. I just have two weeks and normalcy will return!