The Secret Life of Blue: What I Imagine She Does When We’re Gone

Hi, I’m Amanda! Read my introduction to learn more about me and Blue, my fluffy fire point Himalayan-Persian cat.

So my family watched The Secret Lives of Pets 2 recently, and it had me thinking about what happens when we leave our pets at home. Imagining Blue on some sort of heist or blaring rock music is fun, but her time alone is probably a lot more relatable and a lot more about her kind of peace. Our home is not equipped with a phone-connected treat dispenser or cameras to monitor her activities. I am also here all day, every day, so this would have me in a Truman Show tailspin, hard pass.

Knowing Blue and using my best judgment, this is how I picture her spending her time in an empty house, with anything and everything at her disposal. Spoiler alert, it’s pretty wild (not).

Personal Time

She's not the kind to see us out, so her noticing that we are away-away and not just outside is a gradual realization. She would slowly saunter from room to room, checking to see if anyone was taking a nap or watching something she had zero interest in. Each area receives a tick on a mental checklist. Bedrooms empty – tick. Bathrooms empty – tick. Living room empty – tick and so on. At every door, there'd be a longing meow and a pause for response. Once the results are in and the house is confirmed free of human life, I'd imagine she'd check the front and back doors. Are the main doors closed, or just the screen doors? Ahhh, it is just me, myself, and I.

Next, maybe she checks for a sunny spot on the floor to see if it’s still there, lingering like an old friend. If it is, she’ll stretch herself out into it, allowing the sunlight to hug her since no one else is available, and settle in for a nap. After waking up, she'd likely check her empty bowl. How rude of us to leave without placing anything in her bowl for the known journey and the undisclosed amount of alone time that lies ahead.

Blue likes to chew her nails occasionally, although I often interrupt her for a trim before she can splinter them any further. She'd obviously take this opportunity to gnaw on any or all that she wished. I can hear the crunch in my ears right now. Naturally, this would evolve into a full-blown grooming session. Once her majestic coat is in pristine condition, she'd lie in the middle of the living room floor, air drying and eyeing one of her cat toys that's lying just beyond her reach. Each staring the other down as if to say, "Are you looking at me?" in a mobster voice. Blue'd quickly swat it out of her vision so the staring contest could end and she wouldn't have to admit defeat.

The funny thing about cats is that the above could take all day, or all transpire in a single hour. Regardless, I'm certain the process above, at least in my house, is pretty wash-rinse-repeat. Blue is fairly predictable and luckily, not interested in knocking anything down, clawing up our belongings, or seeking out her bag of food for a few extra meals. The worst she's done on a day away was sneak into our crawl space for a few reckless wees. Thankfully, that behavior is a thing of the past.

If she hears the garage door, Blue will make her way to the door to greet us: our welcoming committee.