Alone

Rascal is still here and will be here for a while.  I came downstairs this morning, went to his favorite night time sleeping area and waited for his morning "meow". I waited for him to come to the kitchen for his morning chow.  When I was here in the office, I put my feet up on the deck to make a nice lap for him to sleep on.  I reached for his hairball medicine.

When I came home from a walk I looked for Rascal on the house.

Tomorrow I leave for Illinois.  Usually, when I left on a trip I put off packing my clothes until the very last thing to avoid upsetting Rascal. Today, I packed because there was no cat to make me feel guilty.  I still felt guilty.

I put away all his toys and cat beds (he had three in three different rooms). I packed his leftover cat food to take to Gary for the two cats down in Illinois.  Chris will take the kitty litter for his cats. In every room, I found bits and pieces of Rascal and put them in a stack in the basement to deal with.  But the memory lingers. I thought of Emily Dickinson's poem.

The Bustle in a House

The Morning after Death

Is solemnest of industries

Enacted upon Earth –

The Sweeping up the Heart

And putting Love away

We shall not want to use again

Until Eternity –

Yep.  That kind of covers it.