We have 3 cats - or rather - I have 3 cats. Since my spouse, Allen, died, I have to remind myself that it's not WE/OUR anymore it's I/MINE. So I have 3 cats: Othello is the oldest, then Lucky and Bette who are the same age. They each has their own story and personality.
While I have to remind myself to use singular pronouns, the cats do not have them. They don't know We from I, but they do know something changed. Something Big. Something is Different. Something is Missing.
There are people who do not think animals feel loss or grief, but lots of us know they too can feel the absence of another, they just express it in different ways. Sometimes they may show only a flitting interest and sometimes they may show a more prolonged difference in mood.
We/I had several budgerigars, aka parakeets, that lived well past 20 years. When one of them died the other climbed down to the bottom of the cage to "see" their cage mate lying there. It did not last long, only a few moments. He looked at the feather lump, cocked his head in different directions, approached slowly and after a short time, climbed back up to the perch.
Cattle and horses also sense death. They perhaps are curious about the stillness of their pasture mate but it is a bit more than that. They approach the inert herd member slowly, ready to shy or spook away but once close enough, they look intently; then go on about their daily routines, ignoring the dead one. They don't come and look again, that is something humans do.
After Allen died, the cats all showed their indications of the loss, each differently.
Bette was the most affected as she was highly attached to Allen. She was at a loss trying to find him in the house. She is still unsettled and I'm at best, a second rate stand in, for her. She is slowly moving her affections in my direction but it isn't at the same level. We have our routine, when I lie down, she comes up on the bed and I rub her tummy. Then we take a nap together.
Othello is less demonstrative. He mopes frequently. He is a bit frustrated with me, as he spent years teaching Allen to respond to his signals for Meal Time. Now, he has to teach me to respond to his requests and I am harder to teach. When I don't fill up the feed bowls just right, so there are no blank spots in the middle, he looks at me with his beautiful golden eyes and you can almost see him thinking: Second String.
Lucky did not seem to be affected as much. He is a happy cat, and very adventurous. He has a extraordinarily long tail which he chases and catches, garnering laughter for his antics. While the hospital bed was here, he was the only cat to jump up on the bed. All the cats walked around and under the bed, as if they knew Allen was there, but only Lucky jumped up on the mattress.
Some time before Allen died, I purchased some nice warm bed socks for him. They were fuzzy and soft, with grippy feet. They could keep his feet warm and he could walk around wearing them. I bought 2 pairs. They were only partially useful as the company sent a smaller size, so the fit was a bit tight. He decided to keep them anyway and set them on his dresser, where he could put them on whenever he wanted.
Shortly after Allen died, I took a trip to visit MrsB and R.Cane in Texas. It was a many faceted celebration of 100 years birthday and an early celebration of my 70th birthday and every form of celebration we could cram into my visit. A friend took care of the cats.
When I returned, the house was as I left it. The task of converting what was 2 and now is 1, isn't easy or quick. Much remains untouched and even more remains TBD on the ToDo List. There isn't any more HoneyDo, it's all Mine ToDo or Not. Often times it's Not.
Some weeks after my return, I was upstairs working on my computer, when Lucky appeared. He flopped down on the floor as usual, but when I turned to look at him, he had brought me a present.
He brought me one of Allen's Bed Socks.
I melted.
Over the next weeks, he brought them one by one upstairs. 4 fluffy bed socks.
Lucky seemed happy when surrounded by the socks. He would grab one and grapple with it or lay his paw across it with a "THIS is mine" look, accompanied by "I am sharing with you" purr.
During the last few months, my own health has been uncertain. The MDs are working to sort out what's wrong, and I've been going for various tests, the results of which are: More Tests Needed.
One of my very good friends sent me a new laptop as a birthday gift. It is an extraordinary gift. I have it sitting on my dining table downstairs and since it's arrival, and my uncertain health, I've gone upstairs less and less. I still do climb the stairs but there are fewer reasons to do so at the moment. Come Winter temperatures, upstairs will be the place to be, but for now, downstairs is the coolest. Also closest to the kitchen and ice tea pitcher.
There are days, waiting for test results, scheduling for the next set, trying to stay cool when it's 115F outside, drinking enough fluids to stay hydrated, that laying down with the fan blowing on me is the biggest activity of the day. As they say, only mad dogs and Englishmen, haven't got the sense of a goose, to stay inside where it's cool and wait for the heat to drop to 105F in the evening.
Waking from a dozing nap, I saw Lucky laying at the foot of the bed. He has a Sphinx like profile and as he turned to look at me, he moved his paw just a bit, and I saw it.
A fluffy bed sock.
A day or so ago, after rustling up yet another appointment for yet another test which was complicated by the fact that no one called to book the appointment because, somehow that information was left in the bit bucket of the Great Medical Computer Patient Records, Tests and Appointment System, I was feeling a bit whelmed.
Sitting there, contemplating the logistics of getting to and from, which for this particular test is not too difficult, I felt Othello come by and nudge me, which is one of his "Is it Supper Time?' signals. I reached down to pet him and there was Bette not too far away, laying on her side, observing me. Then I heard a small mew, so I turned around in my chair and there was Lucky. He was coming towards me and the reason for the small mew was, he had something in his mouth. Something he brought to share with me.
A fluffy bed sock.
[Editor's note: Allen posted essays under the name of ElGato.]
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Lucky's Sock
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