Not Alone

Privacy is an illusion in this house.  I go nowhere alone.  We are a tribe of four and travel in a group.  I sometimes wonder if three of us pity me, who has to get along with only two legs.  The cats particularly like it when "we" go into the bathroom.  Since, in their eyes, I'm not doing anything, there's no excuse not to pet them and they crowd around my feet.  As Bess ages, she has more difficulty navigating on slick floors and so stands in the doorway watching.  In the kitchen, she comes in just far enough that she can back out, otherwise her legs go out from under.  I really want to get her one of those beep-beep backup signals that trucks have.  Ralph and Celeste are sure that any trip to the kitchen is an opportunity for treats.  Always optimistic, they've got their routine down pat, doing the rub-up and sweet-talk thing.  Sometimes (okay, a lot of times) it works.  Bessie doesn't get left out; she gets three (always three and they have to come in the same order) different treats every morning.  It's nice to know I'm still trainable.  At night, the tribe gathers to go to bed together in self-assigned places.

This group mentality is not limited to the house.  The goats come out of their stalls one at a time in the morning, but from then on we are a herd.  I have to latch gate and doors behind me when I need to work in the barn else it would get crowded in there.  I am always provided an escort when leaving the pen, and the girls meet me every evening so we can walk down to the barn together.

I might not have a human companion, but I'm not alone.