I'm not sure how it occurred really, this love of soft furry things. Today I find myself cuddled up with a soft fuzzy blanket and it seems too lightweight as if it isn't right somehow. I have these jackets that I love that are soft and fuzzy. It is a texture thing with me I believe, as when in stores I am always touching blankets or pillows or jackets to feel how soft they are. I am drawn to them as if they bring comfort some how like a mother's hug. Today however, while I sit wrapped up and just exhausted with life in general, my favorite blanket isn't cutting it.
Two days ago you may have read we lost our Gabby. Gabby was all cat just like people say boys are all boy. I'm not precisely sure what that means but she was always herself. She was seventeen which translates to about eighty four in human years. She was like a teenager in the sense that she only really wanted to come around us if she wanted something from us. She was like a little old lady in the sense that she was going to do what she wanted when she wanted. For example; she knew where her litter boxes were but she would look at you even if you caught her in the act like, I know I have have a litter box over there and I'm going to pee or poo right here. I do what I want and you are my people who clean this up.
When she was younger she wouldn't really have anything to do with other humans except for my mother who hated cats. Somehow she seemed to sense this and would always rub up against mom and try to win her over or being that she is my cat she probably did it just to tick her off. A cat's attempt at sarcasm and jerkiness perhaps. As she grew older though she would kind of be jerky to us and then be all angelic when other people came over. It was pretty hilarious.
She loved us like a teenager loves their overbearing, overprotective parents. She was too cool for us but she did need food and water. She also was protective of us. She would scare off other animals when she was in her prime. Other dogs and cats didn't stand a chance. If a mouse got into the house, well, he could stay because she had no interest. Lucy was our mouser. She got so many mice even after she died mice were scared to enter the premises. At least that is the story we tell, it is probably more likely that all the houses in the neighborhood got built up and the mice stopped coming from the fields to our house and sought their refuge elsewhere. Gabby would take one look at a mouse and go the other direction.
When we were sad, she was there to sit in our laps and comfort us. When our Linus died she took his spot at the foot of our bed and she grieved his loss with us. They had been friends for nine years as we brought him home once we lost our Lucy. She was there for us through the birth of our son, the loss of my mom, and the loss of our number four. She comforted and guarded and protected and loved us through so many years that I keep looking for her even now when we are mourning the loss of her. I keep thinking I hear her meowing or that I will open the garage door where her litter box was kept and she will come slowly walking back into the house after doing her business. I keep closing the doors inside the house then I remember that I don't have to anymore. And yes, as I sit here cuddled up in my soft fuzzy blanket, tired and just worn out with life in general, I keep looking for her and wanting to feel the weight of her sleeping in my lap or nearby to comfort me in my distress.
It seems silly to most I suppose. I broke down at work yesterday when I first got there and all that happened was that the pharmacist asked me how I was. Sometimes I think it is the days after a loss that are the hardest and not the actual day of. The day of you are just in shock and running on shock and adrenaline. The days after are when it seeps in and settles. When the cloud just seems to have fully formed and decided to stay for awhile and rain. It seems no accident to me that we have had rain yesterday and today. It feels as if the heavens are weeping with us. It seems so odd for her to not be underfoot and then I always lean on her more two weeks out of the year and this week is one of them. The week of my mother's birthday when my inner demons come to call once again. When the struggle to put one foot in front of the other is harder and usually her fur catches my tears as I mourn another birthday my mom didn't get to have with me. A time when I replay every decision and try to align everything to make sure there isn't anything else I could have done for her. This is my burden to bear and Gabby has always been there for comfort because I try to be so strong around everyone else.
Today we returned Gabby's food and medicine to the animal hospital. We also went to the store to buy things for cleaning up the garage where as I said before she went wherever she wanted. We cleaned up after her daily but now it comes down to a complete fumigation process. As if we need to remove all traces of her being there. Our lives are changed so irrevocably by the loss of her. But what is more is that our lives were so changed by having her and loving her and even if I had known the day and time we would lose her I still would have brought her home that day. We were so blessed by having her. That's the thing about love, no matter what form it comes in, even though it will cause you pain sometimes, it is always worth it in the end. Love transforms us, it molds us, it helps us draw closer to God who is love. I believe he designed it that way. Our love doesn't end when we lose someone or something it only expands to stretch to the other side.
So this week I am sad but the sadness will eventually subside just as the clouds will part and the sun will shine again. But my love for all of the blessings I've been given, well...that will last long after my time here. In the meantime, I will find comfort in God's love and a soft fuzzy blanket.