There is one thing that unites cats and dogs but especially, of course, dogs: they do not like seeing you leave, whether to the shops or for work, and suffer greatly when you go away for several days, when packing a bag or a suitcase is involved.
My dog, Hera, hates my suitcase. Whenever it makes an appearance, she becomes anxious, whines, and won't let me out of her sight. She would also jump onto my bed after I have laid out the clothes I'm packing, and lay on top of them with the most suffering and forlorn mien she can manage.
This picture was taken before a vacation and shows her expression well.
[A bed with a pile of clothes. To the right lies Hera. She is white with large patches of brown fur covering her head and the middle of her back, long-legged and long-eared. She is gazing away from the camera to the right and slightly downward, her eyes liquid pools of misery, her ears standing up and her pink tongue licking her nose in distress.]
Cats' reactions to packing are slightly different. Both a friend's cat and one of the two I live with after moving out of my parents' house seem to think that the suitcase is their personal kingdom, or maybe a throne to use at will.
I was adding the last items to my case this morning before going to the Zvenigorod Conference on Plasma Physics, and after docking out of the room and returning with one more thing to pack, I beheld this picture.
[An grey and white suitcase lays open on the wooden floor, its lid propped against the blue-painted wall. On the stack of clothes within lays Rysya, a fluffy grey-brown tabby cat. She has the air of a queen reunited with her throne. The cat faces the room, and the camera, but does not look at the photographer, her eyes half-closed in contentment, her front legs stretched out and dangling slightly over the rim of the suitcase, a picture of self-assured repose.]
I should have gotten used to this spectacle after years of housing dogs, yet every time I am still speechless after discovering animals hogging my possessions this way, and can only chuckle, torn between fondness, exasperation and irritation with the need to brush fur off my freshly laundered and ironed clothes, because one more thing the furry friends have in common is their uncanny ability to choose the best garment to nest on, or the one on which their shed hairs are going to be the most visible. It may not be obvious in the pictures I show above, but Hera and Rysa are both lying on black cloth.