We’re making another run to the city today. I got the call and Maynard’s remains are ready to be picked up. I really miss that little fucker – he was so smart, he figured out that scissors usually mean he’d be getting some sort of treat, be it a freshly cut leaf of catnip or one of those soft treat tubes.
The baby sling I would carry him around in is now hanging from the coat rack, rather than sitting folded on the stool he’d often perch on to beg for whatever I was cooking in the kitchen. His collar hangs on our refrigerator door. The catnip plant that was being sequestered in my office is now on the floor for the others to graze on – no longer kept as a special treat saved for when Maynard would lounge in my office as I worked on something. Roscoe paces the floor wailing for his brother and best friend. Boxes left as tribute on the floor remain unscratched. I started a fire in the wood stove the other night, but our resident fire chief wasn’t present to pick out the logs and lay in front of the stove to gauge it’s performance.
It will take more time, but we’ll be alright. But right now we just need to get through today.
Song of the day: Surrounded by Dream Theater
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