Posted on December 4, 2006
By Trudy A. Martinez
She did it again. She left, leaving me here alone again. Why? I do not understand. I’ve been good. Why does she leave me? When she leaves, she’s missing for days. She locks me in. I can’t get out. I’m left alone. I can’t leave; I can’t reach the door knob; I can’t open it. I can only sit. I can only look. I can only watch. I can only watch everyone outside living life to the fullest. But what is someone to do when you’re left alone for days on end.
When I am feeling sorry for myself, like I am right now, I mope. I mope around. I sleep. I sleep some more, more than I should. I guess you might say I’m depressed. I get lonely. I tend to get in mischief when I’m lonely and alone. I think I do it just to get back at her for leaving me. After all, turn around is fair play. Isn’t it?
It’s fun to do things you’re not supposed to. I am feeling down, a little possessive too. I go upstairs to sit and look out the window at everyone playing on the green grass. Then I look for trouble because I can’t play on the green grass. I roam the room instead. When I get to my favorite chair, I find it occupied. Nope, I’m still alone. But to my surprise I am now alone with her stack of papers.
“That’s my chair!” I exclaim. I quickly throw all the papers on the floor. But I didn’t stop there. I am still upset because she left me. So, I tear the papers into little bits; I shred them! I even make sure, if she is able to glue them back together, she will never be able to read them.
I poke all the papers full of holes before I shred and tear them. The ink runs on some of the pieces because I put them in my mouth and get them wet.
Oh is she going to steam when she sees what I did. I’ll surely get her attention. She will yell, “My papers!”
Well, they were her papers and she can have them now. I had my fun. I’ll bet she’ll think twice before she puts anything on my chair again. I bet she will think again about leaving me alone. It will serve her right. She deserves torment.
What is that noise? I look out the window. The car is home. That means she is home. I turn. There she stood, frozen in time.
Are those tears in her eyes? She stood glaring at me; she didn’t even blink. “Hasn’t she learned by now I can out stare her?” I think. I think, “She’s getting ready. She’s attacking me. No, wait. It’s the look at me when I talk to you time. Just before she attacks, she does this. That’s okay. This time I will not back down.” I keep telling myself, “I will not back down. I will stare back.”
She reaches for me.
I want to run. I just stare. I freeze. I stare. I am frozen in place. I can’t move. “Oh no! Oh, no!”
She scares me. She is so intense.
She is grabs me. I didn’t yell out; I didn’t fight back. I wasn’t scared. I did get my motor running though–you know–I start– “Purr, purr, purr, purring.” That always gets her to smile again. Then, she starts petting me.
She loves me no matter how mischievous I am or what I’ve been into. I love her too. But I hate it when she leaves me here alone.