Catshipping
Right about now, The Mrs is handing Gramsci over to someone who’s going to take him to Heathrow for his flight to San Francisco. I can barely imagine the emotional wreck that the cat mover will be leaving at the front door. He’s been dreading putting the little ‘un through the trauma of the journey. And oddly, I just had a twinge of my own at the thought of him being taken away from home and The Mrs by a stranger, never mind at the thought of over ten hours on his own in the strange environment of a plane’s hold.
I’m looking forward to having him here, but there’s an unmistakable sense of guilt at putting him through something that’s surely going to be so traumatic.
EDIT: And The Mrs just called to say he’s on his way. Poor Gramsci.