I know mom’s writing about her recent trip to India, so I decided to keep to her theme. From my own perspective, of course!
Even though mom’s back now, I want to go back to the day before she left – to that moment when I first noticed that the dreaded suitcases had emerged from the cupboard…
I don’t automatically detest suitcases. It’s not a Pavlovian response, by any means. But I do get very suspicious when I see them lying open in the bedroom. Because that’s when the uncertainty and the hopefulness begins.
You see, I only hate suitcases if mom isn’t taking me with her on her travels. Otherwise they’re a symbol of excitement and new adventures. The thing is, I only discover if I’m going along much, much later– she packs all the same things regardless of whether or not I’m going with her. So that doesn’t help me know how to react.
I can’t even tell by looking at whether there’s one or two suitcases involved. Because sometimes mom takes me, dad or both of us with her and sometimes she leaves us both at home.
So, it’s very hard for me to figure out if I should glare at the suitcases or not.
This time it turned out mom and dad were going, and I was being left behind with my doggy sisters and Aunty Claire. Which was okay. Only I miss mom when she’s away and I miss taking her for her walks. I just hope dad remembers to take her for walks when I’m not there. I mean, I trust him and all that, but just wish I could always be there to be sure.
And that’s why I only detest suitcases some of the time.
PS: Mom told me she’s probably taking me on her next trip, which will be when she performs at the Grahamstown Festival this year. I really hope she does!
