Yes, this is actually two cats.
See?
I already wrote a mourning post about a cat when Lexus died just last fall, so I’m not going to write another one for little Cali who we’ve had and loved for fourteen years, since she was six weeks old. Except to say that my heart feels squashed and the house feels empty and there are moments (like looking for photos to post here, and what the hell kind of masochistic weirdo am I that I put myself through that just because it adds a certain je ne sais quoi melancholy to the blog post to show them in their prime?) when it hurts so much I don’t think I can stand it. I hear thumps and think, Oh man, what’re they getting into now? And then I realize it’s just the house settling. (Or ghosts. Or somebody attempting to break in.) And I mourn all over again. Although in my head there’s always the thought (the thought I’ve had about everyone I’ve lost), that yeah they’re gone but when are they coming back?
Part of me blames myself, because after Anna came I neglected them both. We used to spend our days curled together keeping each other’s laps warm as I wrote and guzzled countless cups of black coffee, reaching down to scratch a head when I remembered they were there, groaning at the fullness of my bladder (see above about countless cups of coffee) because I didn’t want to get up and wake them. But because I only have one lap Anna took precedence, and I know the cats must’ve felt betrayed. Can neglect cause cancer? I mean no, of course not, but if they sensed they were no longer the top-cats of the household, did they give up sooner than they might have otherwise? Did Cali miss Lexus so much that she decided to join her? And is part of my mourning a subconscious mourning for a loss of those days when my time was my own and I could spend hours snuggled there without worrying about anything other than writer’s cramp and an empty cup? I don’t know, all I know is that I’d give up a finger and a toe and my favorite pair of jeans just to have another week with them.
Damn, sorry, I lied. This was a mourning post after all and it sucked, but HERE ARE PICTURES OF ANNA WITH A TUPPERWARE CONTAINER ON HER HEAD.
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I’m sorry, Elizabeth. Pet loss is hard.
As for Anna: I find that an opaque bowl looks better on my head. Of course, her Tupperware may vary.
AND…so sorry for your loss.
I’m so, so sorry you had to endure yet another pet loss. And so soon. It’s just not fair that we get attached to these little critters, who become so much more to us, yet they don’t have the same lifespan as us. I think it’s cruel!
But I do hope that seeing Anna in moments like the tupperware-wearing, helps when you’re feeling down.
(((HUGS))) I’m sorry
Our pets become our family, and loosing them sucks big time.
Hey, Liz. It’s Edwin from NYDA. I’m sorry to hear about your loss. I too am very close to my cat and have raised him as one of my own children for the last 10 years. I can’t imagine how empty I will feel when he leaves us as I have not yet lost a close family member. I definitely feel for you.
Pictures, although they may hurt, give us something tangible to remind us that we have had the privilege of sharing our lives with such amazing animals and/or people. Enjoy the sweet melancholic pain that they bring.
Perhaps maybe you can give Lexus and Cali an opportunity to carry on in one of your novels? I’m sure they have given you plenty of memories to draw from.
And Anna’s growing up quickly! She’s a real cutie!
You know how to reach me if you want to talk further. Be well.
Sorry about your cats dying. I can’t say it gets easier; my dog died 18 months ago, and I still miss him so much that sometimes I feel like bawling my eyes out.