Not that it isn't nice to have the house back to ourselves. The cats are of two minds: they've had people spoiling them, whipping out the brush at the first pitiful meow, petting them and calling them beautiful. On the other hand, they can roam through the house without being picked up and hugged, and they can take their naps in peace.
They can't decide whether to be happy company's gone or sad. So she wakes up and looks around expectantly to find her admiring audience.
And he peers around corners trying to see if he needs to make a grand entrance in case someone's waiting to fawn all over him.
Yep, I think we're all suffering from withdrawal!