For only the second time I can remember, in the last 35 years, I do not have a furry, fuzzy, flea bag running around under foot. It’s been over a month since I lost KC, and 4 weeks since Charley and I parted ways, and I have to tell you, I’m having a hard time adjusting. I thought after I moved off the boat and away from all the reminders that I would be more better, and I have improved somewhat, but it’s still tough to deal with. At night I keep imagining a cat is somewhere on the bed. A shade of light or movement makes me look twice. I know they are gone, but they ain’t really gone. (Please, no ghost stories. I know better.)
Back in 1980, an ex girlfriend coming walking in the door with a black and white ball of fur. She found the cat under her car. Half it’s tail looked like it had been bitten off. She begged me to take it and I did. The cat was pretty cool, followed me into the dive shop where I was working and hung out all day. Liked to eat ice cream off the stick. I found her one morning along side the road, and thought that would be it. But a neighbor heard about me losing the little shit and brought me Snorkels, a yellow tom cat. We were together for 17 years.
There were others in between. A big siamese male who moved in the day I bought my house. Another kitten from another ex. Several feral strays. A neighbor’s beautiful calico who started hanging out at my place. She was pregnant, ran off and came back not pregnant. 5 weeks later she brought the litter to my door, all 5 of them. I found homes for all but damn, the cat habit was getting out of hand. Then there was the black and white I had before KC and Charley.
Now, I have none. I catch myself heading down the pet food aisle when I go to the store. I keep thinking I have to get back to feed the cats. But it’s no more. I never realized until now how used I was to having a cat or 2 or 10 around. As time goes on, and I start doing some traveling, I will probably be ok, but right now, it’s hard to deal with. I know I can’t get KC nor Charley back, nor does it matter as I have no place to keep another cat, but I keep thinking the next time I get settled into something long term, it won’t be too very long before another fuzzball comes into my life.
It’ll be ok, but damn, cat withdrawal is tough to deal with.