Squeaky

It's that time of year when Joey spends days away and comes home demanding attention. This morning after a Joey-free day I walk about, stop and listen. I hear what I believe may be my cat (or is that kat? as in spicy kat). Nothing. I'm not worried about the cat, but the squeak is puzzling.  My morning primping has been replaced with deep belly breaths, node pumping, strokes, stretches and pill popping.  I move...squeak. I ignore and move on. Where is that cat?  A new sound emanates from within, my deep belly breaths have excited my appetite as I double hand  it down the stairs ...squeak. I anticipate the familiar silhouette of dark pointy triangles behind glass doors ...squeak.  Their absence only briefly disappoint and I move on ... squeak. I prepare my favorite coffee and relax on the sofa ...squeak. It must be the coffee because I realize then the little puzzling noise is coming from me. I'm squeaking. Don't have time to worry, although it's Saturday I'm putting in a few hours at work. I travel the back road and imagine Tom waking up and hearing a familiar squeak and anticipates seeing me in the kitchen.  As he makes his way down the stairs he sees only a hungry cat. I fear that I am spending a lot of time away from home these days. Time to start flexing my schedule.