Damn, it’s the Hoover!

I know when Those Two are getting ready for a vacation. No, it’s not the suitcases — that’s the last step. It begins with the cleaning.

Now don’t get me wrong: my mamas are cleaner and tidier than the average house dwellers, if my memory of my previous digs serves me right. There’s just something about going away for more than a day that spurs them to clean like there’s no tomorrow. And, quite frankly, I think that’s the point.

I’ve heard them say, “What if something happens to us?” I’m not quite sure what that “something” might be, but the gist of it seems to be that horror would ensue if family members or even a stranger had unbridled access to every floor, every room of the house, and not just where my pet sitter might venture.

So they vacuum, dust, Swiffer and scrub at a frantic pace. Does it never occur to them that “something” could happen on any ordinary workday, when dishes are piled in the sink and clothes are strewn about? Silly humans!

I know they worry, too, that I’ll be depressed when they’re gone, wondering whether they’ll ever come back. Being abandoned once did scar me a little, but I know Those Two will be back. They can’t live without me.