the sound of love and death

i had to put my cat down on the weekend. she had been with me for 14 years and i cannot tell you how much i miss her already. it’s crazy hurty at she sees red HQ right now.

something i’ve been thinking about during that time is related to ‘their constant loving silences’ that a friend used to describe our pets’ companionship. it’s the sound of her absence that is the biggest, painful silence:

no thump of her jumping on or off the bed
no loud, insistent meow when she heard the crack of a can opening, or the rattle of her catfood packet.
no low adorable rumble of her satisfied purring – the feline vuvuzelas
no sound of licking paws and general grooming
no scratching on the door, asking to be let in/out
no scratching all my magazines, insisting i wake up for her to be fed
no conjugations or diminutive versions of the word pussycat, cat or sweetheart (including poozie, pyjamas, pushkin or gorgeousness)
no concern about the sound of a vacuum cleaner – that machine monster that would drive her under the bed
no sound of three kisses (her particular call)
no gallumph of mad running down the hallway
no growling or hissing
no random skitters across the floor
no taps on the wedgewood saucer, that called for food
no tiny mew when she sees me crying
no general chit chat to a patient and quiet, loving listening cat

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