The cats are staying close. If not on top of one of us, they’re in the same room, talking or just watching. In bed, they’re under the covers, or perched on a hip, and purring, always purring. Looks like they’re glad we’re home. If they missed us, they don’t seem angry about it.
The chickens seem glad that we’re home, too, though it’s harder to know with chickens. They were excited to be let outside in the sunshine for some foraging and flapping about, half running and half flying in that funny way that they have. And they liked the brussels sprouts that I tossed into their coop whole – a combination of food and entertainment. Not that either of those has much to do with me.
We’re home, with our cats and our chickens. I missed them. I’m glad to be home.