Wabby Wibby Speaks Out

Wabby Wibby really stands for "baby kitty." It's baby talk. Other cat owners will understand. The following is an excerpt from a time long ago - when we took my youngest daughter off to college. This is what I imagined Wabby Wibby saying, as we prepared to leave, and then, when I returned.

---   I noticed a change today - just as soon as the sun peeked through the blinds. The air in the house was charged. And it wasn't from the dog running around chasing her tail - such an undignified task! No, this was an air of unsettled bustling. Of humans running about changing things.

It was a Saturday. No, I don't take much notice of the passing of days, other than events which interrupt my nap, but on this day, this Saturday (so they said, over and over, the noisy humans), everyone was up much too early. The sad looks on their faces confused me, but the empty food bowl was far more distressing. I had to cry over and over before someone finally tended to my breakfast!

My first human, the one who most often talks to me, rose earlier than usual. "It's back to school day," she said, rushing from closet to bed and back again. I was content to watch her with one eye closed, one eye open. Her voice is rather pleasant, unlike the Boy's voice. I say, he is going to call me Fat one too many times! Anyway, first human continued to talk - not a worthwhile activity, as far as I can see it. But, useful when words I can connect with are said; like, "food, eat, come on want to eat? is your bowl empty?" This day, first human paused as she dressed (why do humans cover themselves with all that extra fabric? it seems so -- itchy!) "She'll be gone by dinnertime," she said to me, leaning down to look me right in the face. "Won't you miss her, Wabby Wibby?"

I wasn't sure what she was talking about so I stretched, opened both eyes, and gave her a soft meow. Humans like meowing when it's done right. Mostly I chirp because I like to roll my tongue in my mouth and this always makes humans laugh...which I enjoy. "Maggie," first human said, as if she sensed my confusion. Do you suppose they are that smart? "She's leaving. Won't you miss her? She's going off to school today."

I understood well enough. Second human was going away. Whether I would miss her or not was a silly question. I would miss her if she were taking my food dish, or if she closed her bedroom door and prevented me from napping on her bed, or if she had intentions of bringing back some other creature -- surely, I thought at the time, we have enough livestock here, thinking of the DOG.

As first human continued dressing, the boy human emerged from the basement. Basements are excellent places for boy humans -- and dogs. It keeps them from getting underfoot and it leaves the best parts of the house to -- me! At this point, first human wandered into the water-room so I wandered over to second human's room. She was busy stuffing boxes. With stuff. Lots of stuff. She has (had) more stuff than any one human needs! During this, first human came out and spoke to the girl, who spoke sharply back - but for the most part, the morning was going along nicely. Of course, dog was in the way - why is it that they insist upon lying in the doorway all the time? Why can't the dog stay by the boy, who was stuck in front of that noisey box in the front room -- the one that sometimes has interesting pictures on it but is really quite boring. Honestly, humans are amused by the most simple things!

After that, I had to visit the litterbox and when I emerged - the house was empty! There was little for me to do but go to my favorite napping spot. So, I napped. And napped. I woke up once or twice, yawned, and looked for the humans, but - they had not returned. So, I napped some more. All in all, it was a delightful day.

At last, first human returned - alone. She mumbled something about the boy visiting that other male human, the one who lived with us when I was but a kitten, but there was no second human. First human sighed many times as she moved through the house. She was kind enough to feed me right away, which is only right, but it did not make her happy. Certainly, not as happy as it made me! I took a rare moment before diving into my dinner to offer a kind meow - that just seemed right, somehow. First human knelt down (to my surprise) and drew me into a soft hug. "Wabby Wibby," she said, with a ring of sadness in her voice, "it's just you and me now. That's all. Maggie is at school and Donnie is at his dad's. Just you and me." With a gentle rub on my head.

"Meow," I said. If I knew how, I would have smiled. Just you and me, first human. That's just the way I like it.