It’s silly that I’m missing you, isn’t it? You were just a cat – and an ornery one at that. You wouldn’t let me give you hugs and shied away from any love. But still, I’m looking around every door expecting to find your coat of black fur hoping to see your many faces relaxing in your favorite places: the nappy chair the bird-filled sill the bathroom tub that homemade quilt – but you’re not there to pest with a kiss and boy oh boy, your mews I sure miss. It’s too quiet now – like our house is a castle empty for 100 years – my heart guilty or barren my eyes filled with tears. Perhaps this all proves to whoever needs to know, you were never just a cat for certain, I know that.
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