Grief for animals is pure. We can’t complicate, overthink, or deny it. The tears come easy and dry when they’re done. All I have to do is think of Percy letting me load him into a carrier for a trip to God knows where, uncomplaining, because he trusted me. Or the way he’d put both his arms — do cats have arms? — around my neck and breathe into my ear all night. Or how much he loved tuna water.

There will only ever be one Percy:

But I think soon I will have space for someone else:

He’s blurry because he never stops moving. All I know is that last month he was found tottering the streets during a thunderstorm, a 3-week-old purebred (?) Siamese saying eeeeeeee.

He needs a name.

I bet Percy would’ve liked him.

4 thoughts on “eeeeeee

  1. Sometimes matters take their own course without our trying. You’ll know when you are ready for a new companion and of course this companion will never replace Percy. It takes as long as it takes for grief to run its course and this can never be hurried.

    I know because I’ve experienced it. My much loved Oscar was also a tabby boy and whilst I now have a tabby boy called Plato I know he cannot replace my much loved Oscar. Love the blurry photo of the Siamese kitty.

  2. Oh, my… what wonderful kitties. Lil’ Siamese is blurry! :3 His fur is so bright, like snow or starlight… those blue eyes!

    I grieve for my lost kitties… I am so sorry I wasn’t good enough. I have two rescues now and I love them with everything I have. They mean more to me than anything else. More than, I think, any human ever could.

  3. Borvo: Celto-Lusitanian healing god associated with bubbling spring water. Water has healing powers – kitteh has healing powers. He’s clearly, a deity, offering himself to heal you and help you move on from so many things… Love you, Phona. I’m here, too, if you need to talk to a human. (sometimes kittehs are better, though, and i’m comfortable with that truth)

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