The Wookie

Weekends, sometimes, are the hardest part of the week for me. It's not the classwork; that's certainly more difficult during the week. It's not the voluminous amounts of chores that need getting done amongst the studying. It's not even balancing of all of the above. It's the loneliness. During the week, I'm in contact with my classmates every day in class. I see them, get to talk to them, get to share stories and thoughts. During the week, I look forward to the solitude in the evenings. Then the weekend rolls around, and it's two days of having to live in my head with no one else to talk to. I know I've been without human contact when I start having full conversations with my cat. Yeah, so I know for a while last year I was posting most weeks about my little, little boys (Rex and Cody). In February, I adopted a ten year old Maine Coon.

Chewbacca is roughly 13-14 pounds, and absolutely beautiful. I try to not tell him that too often, don't want it going to his head. Unfortunately, I think he already knows how gorgeous he is. He's actually small for his breed. One of his brethren just broke the world record for longest cat (four feet from tip of nose to tip of tail). But Chewie has the most personality. When I come home from school, I can hear him coming all the way down the stairs from my room. The pitter patter of his feet and his tiny meows (I mean, he's a full grown cat that meows like a tiny kitten). He meows all the way down the steps and then gets into the living room and sees me. He flops on his side, rubs his face with his paws and meows at me. "Why hello Chewie!" which prompts his pulling himself around the living room on his side. That's right, he follows me around the living room by scooting along the floor on his side.

Chewie is also strange when it comes to food. See, the only type of meat he'll is fish, especially tuna. But he won't touch turkey or chicken or meat. Yet, he loves banana flavored ice cream, and really any sort of ice cream. He loves pumpkin (bread, cake, pie). He likes chocolate, and he loves the salt off of the goldfish crackers. I've never had such a strange cat. He plays fetch, comes to his name, plays soccer. I think he might actually be a dog that just happens to look like a cat.

At any rate, during the weekends, he is my primary social contact. I spend almost the entire weekend talking to him. I convince myself that it's completely normal to have full conversations with him. Sometimes he'll just walk away in the middle of a conversation, and I find myself getting sort of sad. It seems so silly, but I get even more lonely. He'll just wander upstairs to sleep on my bed, and I'll be left alone downstairs feeling abandoned. Yes, abandoned. I'm not the poor cat who was purchased as a kitten by a husband and wife and then shipped off to the humane society after living with the same family for 10 years. Yet, I'm the one that feels abandoned when he wanders off to take a nap.

I think I need to get out more...