Chloë Bears Gifts

The waiting is the hardest part.

The waiting

Heather works too much. She won’t like to see me writing that, but it’s true. In my humble view, she gets home too late every night, long after I’ve eaten dinner, and usually not until I’m having my post-dinner nap in one of my many favorite napping locations. The sound of her car pulling into the driveway awakens me, and then I run to the front door and whine impatiently until she comes in. As I greet her, I want to show her how much I love her so she’ll come home earlier tomorrow, but I’m not allowed to jump up on her and bite her nose (like I can do with Mike any damn time I want to). So I got the bright idea of bringing her little presents instead. I get them from the office.

Prezzie hunting

Prezzie hunting

Heather calls them “Prezzies.” She always seems so happy when she gets one. She makes such a big deal about them, praises me profusely, and then lets me lie in her lap in a chair in the kitchen while she drinks beer and tells Mike about all the crummy things that transpired at her office that day. I don’t really listen to what she and Mike are talking about, I just enjoy being in Heather’s lap, a place even warmer and more secure than all the other places I’ve slept that day. And there’s nothing wrong with those other places, believe me. Heather’s lap is just better. I relax contentedly.

Crumpled flyer

Crumpled flyer

After a while I discovered that the best kind of “prezzie” comes from mail flyers or ads that Mike has crumbled up into a small ball before tossing into the recycling bag along with the newspapers, junk mail and magazines. These crumbled balls are easier to grab with my mouth and hold  onto when I stick my head into the bag and emerge with my prize. I also found these paper balls are easier to chew on, too, and soon I started munching on the prezzies I had originally intended to give to Heather.  Even worse, Heather got mad at me about this, because she doesn’t like me eating paper. I really don’t understand why; it tastes good to me, and it’s not like she’s going to eat it.

Anyway, I haven’t seen Heather in a few days, and I’m worried that she was so mad at me that she went away somewhere for good. After the first morning, I even stopped looking at her spot in bed when I woke up in the morning. No use! Then I found out she just went away for a few days on a business trip, not to punish me. Which is a good thing, because hanging out here alone with Mike is punishment enough. No prezzies for him; I’ll just bite his nose instead.



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