Today has been a very hard day. I had to put my nearly 20 year old cat to sleep last night. eliot has been with me since I was 12 and I really don't remember life without her.
My apartment feels very quiet and still without her and I keep catching glimpses of her out of the corner of my eye.
I didn't how much her presence informed my routine until she wasn't there. When I walk in the apartment, I automatically look to the two places she usually is. When I sit down to eat I brace myself for the onslaught of plaintive mews and unabashed begging I always eventually give in to. When I sit down to type, I never cross my legs because she loves to sit on my lap and an uncrossed lap is more to her liking. When I get out of bed in the morning, I do so carefully, so not to disturb her.
The little sounds I hear around the apartment I could always attribute to her. Like the specific sound her little paws would make when she would jump down from a high surface. Or the click of her claws when she walked on the hardwood floors.
And the conversations we had. I never realized how much I talked to her. It was an ongoing, probably tiresome monologue about the events of my day and how cute she is. She's really freakin cute and I couldn't go long without cooing about it to her.
Now it's just quiet.
eliot was such a good cat. She had attitude and personality and she only accepted affection on her terms. She always greeted me at the door and slept next to or on me and sat with me and gave me head massages. There couldn't be a better cat.
I'm happy I had so long with her, but I miss the fuck out of her already.
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