A Week Later

 I'm still moping.  At most, Stumbles weighed 8 pounds.  The hole she left behind is much bigger than that.

It's much quieter.  I wasn't expecting that; she never meowed much.  But sounds I had grown accustomed to are not there anymore.  Like scratching in the litter box.  When you have a household of cats, it's a common sound.  I hadn't realized that the rest of the cats are fairly quiet about it.  Stumbles scratched in there with great enthusiasm, if not much coordination.  Because of her condition, her legs just sort of went every which way, so there would be not only the scratching, but the pattering sound of litter going everywhere.  I had to sweep the bathroom a half-dozen times a day.

I didn't know that was all her.

It's also just quieter sitting in the den.  Like most cats, she slept 15 hours a day.  But most cats, if they dream, twitch their paws and whiskers.  She would have what appeared to be full-on seizures, thrashing around and occasionally (if I didn't catch her soon enough) flinging herself off the couch or the bed.  It never seemed to bother her.

That has led to another unexpected outcome; I've been waking up an hour, or an hour and a half, earlier than usual.  She always slept in the bed with me, and those seizures would wake me up.  Sometimes they were minor, but if they were one of her really athletic ones I would reach over to scratch her enough to wake up up a bit.  I don't think I realized how many times she woke me up in the night.

Even looking at "her" big fluffy pillow saddens me.  Bob liked to sit on the floor to watch TV.  After his faithful-but-falling-apart beanbag chair finally bit the dust, we went shopping and spotted a big plushy floor pillow.  My comment at the time was "Stumbles will like that one."  And she did.  We had nine cats at the time, but if Stumbles wanted something she would just quietly and firmly claim it.

I'm not alone in missing her.  She was a bit older than RedBug, and sort of raised him.  They were often together.  He has been clingy with me - sitting on my whenever I'm on the couch, or grabbing me when I walk by.

It comes down to the fact that she was a personable, silly, and quite delightful little cat who made me laugh, and now she's gone and I miss her.

And now it's June.  I'm making sure I have my hurricane prep in place.  Unlike the new director of FEMA, I know that there is a hurricane season and it's started.  I simply don't feel like facing another one alone.  I'm already tired of what I call my "summer skin" - with myriad bumps and rashes from mosquito, biting fly, and tick bites.  The heat and humidity are on the rise.

I've started my summer routine of getting out and doing a bit of yardwork - maybe a half-hour or so - before breakfast in the morning, to start the day with a feeling of accomplishment and trying to keep stuff at bay.

I even did a bit of sewing.   I had a length of linen, rescued from a skirt that got ink stains on it that wouldn't quite come out.  I made it into a simple tunic to wear in the evenings because I love linen and it's so much cooler than anything else.  I was amused at myself because it's just a shapeless sort of bag - just a house dress - and yet I spent several hours neatly hand-finishing all the inside seams.  I could have just serged them and been through in 20 minutes instead of taking all that time, but it's something I enjoy and it's almost an act of rebellion against store-bought badly made clothing.   Maybe I'll treat myself to some new (unstained) linen to make some real clothes.

And that's today's wallow/unloading.  Time to feed the cats, squirrel, and opossums and put the chickens up.  Am I forgetting anything?  Yeah - dinner for myself perhaps.