The Cat's a Freak

I think my cat is depressed. When there was a herd of kids chasing her, she played hide and seek to her heart's content. She ran and played and jumped and snuggled with a different kid every day of the week (almost). Now that it's just me here, I've had to take her affections alone, in all their brute force. She won't leave me alone. I go to bed and she curls up beside me, under the covers, head on the pillow beside mine. I sit down to work and she lays on my foot, even though I'm working the foot pedal to do my transcription. I go to the bathroom and she forces the door open and sits there eyeballing me as I'm on the toilet. I venture out of my rooms and she follows me or, more often, leads the way, as if she knows where I'm heading. Sometimes I'm suspicious that she's on a suicide watch, but then if I leave for a doctor's appointment, she sits at the door waiting for me to come home and then wraps herself around my legs as I try to go down the stairs, almost like she's trying to kill me for leaving her alone.

Yes, I think she's depressed. We make a good pair, depressed and lonely, dying inside from missing our babies. So much for the myth that there's a law against "cruel and inhumane" punishment being inflicted upon the residents of this country, but then, I'm not a "criminal" so I don't really count--and obviously neither does my cat.