There is no visible sunrise this morning. I’m parked in the tub, hot coffee on the ledge, the glow of a salt lamp for light, and above me on the skylight the pitter patter of rain and tiny birch tree leaves clinging to the surface.
I miss my Gus, my furry companion, my little soulmate. On mornings like this, if he wasn’t sprawled across the side of the tub or curled up on the mat, he was pawing to get in. He was like a shimmering shadow on my mornings at home. I don’t have words for his absence.
Yoda has become more of a snuggler since we lost Gus. He takes a spot next to me on the couch at the bookends of the day. He almost throws his body against my hip and will lie quietly as I run my fingers up under his collar. I don’t have the words for his presence.
Molly is adjusting. I got her a small “snuggle kitty cat toy”. There is a small battery-powered heart that slips inside the belly to mimic a heartbeat. A presence. She hid from it at first, but has seemed to accept it now without judgement, but without understanding either. I don’t have the words for her bewilderment.
We all miss him so much.
We are approaching the sad anniversay of losing Sassy in a few days. I like to imagine them both together in the beautiful “next”. A very wise friend suggested a monthly remembrance; maybe a walk or lighting of a candle. A reminder that although they have passed from this place, that they are really always here with us. For us.
We have two short trips in December and Yoda will come along for both. We had to leave him home alone on our Sunrise morning at the mountain and came home to evidence of his anxiety. We can’t understand how this absence feels to him. All we can do is make him feel safe and protected.
I do have a word for that.
Just noticed I missed seeing this. I miss Gus. I feel your heartache.
Thanks Gretchen. Grief really is like a wave … 💔
Our furry friends bring ‘light’ to our days in many ways. A snuggle, a quirky behavior, patiently waiting at your feet an hour or more before feeding time, and companionship. Talking to a cat, dog, or even the goldfish is far better than talking to yourself! Many times their personalities bring laughter too. Every time I pet Lili, a Ragdoll cat, she dips her head towards the floor, plants her right shoulder on the carpet, and rolls over so that you are petting her stomach. Every. Single. Time.
Yes, Keitha. Gus has brought us so much light over the years. His little heart was like a beacon. He could be mischievous too … probably why he stole my heart 💙
A lovely & gentle tribute, Bonnie Rae. Our animal family members are so hard to lose. Blessings to you, my friend. 🌞
Thanks, Lisa. Somehow this guy felt like more than a pet. My Comforter-in-Chief. He had a way … 💚
His absence is definitely felt around here 💔
You DO have words, for all of it. Thank you.
Well, yes … I have some for sure. But some things are bigger than we are and trying to describe them will always fall short. Thanks so much for being here.