Trying

I'm really trying to get back to somewhat of a normal routine. The thing is that whatever I do, wherever I go, I know that the last time I did 'this', I had my baby. So, every bus ride, every episode of MASH, hell, even looking at my laundry basket, reminds me that not so long ago, everything was fine.

I go through hours of feeling OK, and then get hit with a wave of total dispair that is surprising because its so uncharacteristic. My biggest worry is that with time the memories will fade. Not disapear, but fade. Right now I can close my eyes and feel her fur on my face. When I used to feel like this I would bury my face in her ruff and just be, feeling her breathing and purring, and it would make things a little better. I can feel it still, but I won't remember that forever. I just wont. Her specific meow, the confused look on her face when she knew you were on the bed, but couldnt quite see you. The look of satisfaction when she had jumped onto your lap and carved herself a nest. Her wandering into the living room and looking for me. She would actually sit and try to find me, and when she made the mistake of jumping on my dad's lap, she would jump down almost immediately and continue the search. Finding me, there was a sense of accomplishment, an air of 'you were hiding but I found you and will now wave my tail under your nose/in front of your book'.

She had fur between her toes, soft and groomed, and she hated it if you touched it. She had fur pantaloons that made her look so comical when she was trying to stalk off in anger. She claimed my bed as her own, sleeping at the end of the bed, so that my legs would be forced into the strangest positions. She would knead her tail, or wave it in front of her own nose, making herself annoyed, and then thrashing the tail harder. She had the softest fur I've ever felt. A friend of mine once got a rabbit's foot and had me feel it, claiming, "you've never felt anything so soft". I had. And I had felt it every day for 16 years.

She was a beutiful cat. She was a coward, she was a diva, she was mine. And I was hers. Should she see me coming down the hall, she would dash ahead of me, wait until I caught up, and dash ahead again, making sure I knew the way to the bedroom. If I was not heading to the bedroom, she would get there, turn and peer around the door frame, seemingly asking, 'well, are you coming?'.

She would run down the stairs in the strangest way. Instead of the one foot at a time method favored by most mammals, she would bounce front legs and then back legs. Somehow, she made the journey pretty fast, but it always sounded like a bowling ball going down the stairs.

She would jump up on my bed while I was trying to get dressed, and position herself exactly where I wanted to sit. She would nuzzle my boobs, my bed posts, my shoes, my door. She would get quite preturbed if you threw your sweatpants over her head, and so evertime I took off my sweatpants, I made sure to do so.

She never wanted anyone to see her eat or go to the bathroom. If you entered the bathroom when either activity was occuring she would either scamper away, or glare at you until she had finished.

I would pull her up onto my chest in the mornings and we'd have a sleepy staring contest. Her feet resting on my collar bone were comforting and kind, even when they started to knead and her claws pierced my skin.

Mostly I will miss the unconditional love that she gave me and I gave her. No matter what, I could always count on the fact that when I went home, there she'd be, on my bed. Waiting for me. I would walk in and she would wake up, try to meow sleepily, try again and end up with a 'meep'. I would meep back at her, confident that all that needed to be said, had been said. When I got stood up for a date in high school, I curled up with my kitten and cried and she just purred at me. When my grandparents died, she sat and watched and nuzzled. When I got into college, she was there, when I didn't get into the college I wanted to, she was there. When everything that has happened in my life, good or bad, since I was in the third grade happend, She was there. Thats the hardest part. Shes never not been there. So many things have happened in my life. Constants in life are few and far between, and for the majority of my life to date, she was one.

I guess this is part of the catharsis. The part of the AA pledge that says that there are things that we cannot control. Death definitely falls into that category. And though I do know that another cat will give me an outlet for the love I've lost, and though I know that another cat may do the things she did, sleep on my bed, meow at me, etc., another cat isn't her.

Its so interesting that I don't really believe in a heaven for people, but I have to believe in a heaven for animals. You never really know people's hearts, no matter how honest they think they're being with you about themselves, there is always something that everyone holds back. Animals dont. They love you regardless of fat, thin, short, tall, happy, sad, etc. And she didn't have to. I know that. Bard didn't love me, he tolerated me. She loved me. And I loved her.