Normally I don’t drink coffee but some mornings all I want is a big mug of scalding hot black-as-Mitt-Romneys-soul cup of kick starter (well it starts out that way – after adding milk and sugar the brew turns decidedly more left wing). And eggs. I always want eggs in the morning.
Yemaja was not feeling like a morning cat. After complaining loudly when I got out from under the duvet she just dug in and covered her head with her paws. Leave me alone human.
It’s almost been a week since Mox died and I’m hitting what I think is the apex of the strangeness of it. I keep expecting her to suddenly show up somewhere. It’s incredibly strange that the top of the computer is unoccupied when I’m sitting next to it. The floor in the kitchen is no longer wet when I get up in the morning (she liked to bash the water bowl around when drinking – so strange). Sunspots on the floor – rare as they are – are going unused.
Yemaja is being VERY sociable now that she does not have her sister to spend time with and a few times she has been walking around the house calling out and searching. That’s kindof sad to see. I’m trying to decide if I should bring another cat home at some point. It seems cruel to have her spend so much time alone. As a result I spoil and overfeed her. That’s how
we I cope.
One of my cats, Mox, died this weekend. She was only 6 years old – although I’ve been told she was an unstable breed – it was very unexpected. Friday she was feeling kindof ill and saturday I called a vet who said her symptoms suggested she had a fever. I was told to give her plenty of water and take her temperature to see if it was critical if she did not feel better the next day. When The Randi returned home Saturday night she found Mox had died while we were gone.
Now she is in a box – waiting for me to take her to the vet tomorrow. I feel bad about having left her alone and I wish I knew what was really wrong with her. She is in the picture in my previous post – feeling completely fine – being her own regal self (taking most of the bed for herself – of course). It certainly was fast. I hope it was also painless.
Losing a pet evokes the same sort of feelings you get when losing a human you cared for. First chock, then sad, then you cry, then you feel guilt, then more sad and then you try to remember the good things (of which there was a lot). Oh and then you feel silly for having all of these emotions about an animal. Then you ask yourself why that is silly – after all I spent more time with Mox than I do with many of my close friends. Now I find myself looking over at my computer on top of which she liked to recline (raising the core temperature by two degrees) and it kindof looks wrong without her on top of it.
I was hoping that writing this post would have a sort of cathartic effect – but maybe it’s a bit too soon for that. I’m going to miss my Mox.
Early morning cats. They are almost permanently curled up somewhere soft these days. The window has been abandoned until next spring and I’m seriously considering just covering them up for the winter.
I know it’s getting colder outside when Mox and Yemmie starts to shun the window in favor of the chair. I usually keep the chair covered up when I’m not using it to avoid having to remove tons of cat hair every time I sit down in it. The cats does not approve of this though and they will paw at the cover and make noise until I remove it. The ladies are, it seems, very particular about the surfaces on which they recline.