31 Jan - The first really hard thing for the trip to Europe was sending Perry away to the 'pet resort' for three weeks. He definitely knew something was up, though I'm going to guess his five months of existence to date hadn't prepared him for what.
I was expecting him to do something super cutely heartbreaking just before they came to take him away, but instead he just looked at me accusatorially a few times and also when we went to a cafe so I could have breakfast, he threw up (well, tbh I don't know if he threw up, the pat of vomit there did not seem to me to contain anything I knew him to have eaten the previous 12+ hours, but if it wasn't him, who was it?). But he didn't need to do anything super cutely anything because of course I already miss him incredibly (less than an hour after he left) and I am in a limbo between where I have surrendered my boy and the upside hasn't started yet, just 48 hours of downside (prep for travel, then travel) before I start to appreciate the worthwhileness.
The woman who came to pick him up asked if she could use the toilet (always weird, imo, but I suppose I'm glad she isn't going to leave Perry unsupervised in a little transporter van while she ducks into a Maccas in Malvern) and - this is entirely between you and me, and I admit I did have the dishwasher running - I am not sure she flushed. I went and flushed anyway after she left and didn't look so only one person (her) will ever know. While she was upstairs using the toilet Perry stole her keys.
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