I own three cats.
There’s Tails, of whom I’ve written before. And there’s the Boys — Woodrow and Leo, two brothers I took in nearly two years ago.
Leo hasn’t been seen since Sunday.
Woody and Leo have been inseparable. When one’s not around the other gets fidgety, though more on Woodrow’s part than Leo’s.
Woodrow seems sad, depressed. He knows Leo’s not around. He wanders around the house miaowing mournfully, hoping to get Leo’s attention. He’s sleeping in strange places.
Woodrow likes to play. He can’t with Tails — she doesn’t like people, and she only tolerated Woody and Leo as long as they stayed out of her space. He’s anxious.
So, Woody’s been clingey. He’s needed a lot of attention the last day or two, far more than normal.
I’m holding out hope that Leo is just in one of his moods, that he’ll turn up on the porch as though nothing’s happened. I want to think that.
I hope so, for Woody’s sake. And mine.