All of Monday and Tuesday, I waited for inspiration to come for Wednesday’s post. And Wednesday morning because, yeah, I’m so disorganized/busy that often the post you read has been written the same day.
As you might have gleaned from an utter lack of posting yesterday, I came up with nothing.
I realized that I’ve been hungrier lately, and wanting to snack even when I wasn’t. (No, this isn’t about a pregnancy.) I’ve also been chewing my nails like crazy. To the point where it’s been a little painful.
And despite being relatively productive over the last few days — I’ve even been getting back into exercising! — I think I’ve been in a bit of a funk.
Then I checked my posts from last year. Turns out Tuesday was the anniversary of Sandy being put to sleep. And I think that’s got a lot to do with it.
The other day I thought I saw her in the hall. It was a quick double-take. I knew almost immediately it wasn’t her. And some nights I still dream about her being alive. Even in the dream I know it’s not right. But I’m always just glad for the extra time with her — time when she’s her old self and not in so much discomfort.
Sandy was my first pet, so this is the first time I’ve experienced this kind of loss. It’s bewildering.
It’s not like I expected to be over her by now, but the sudden feelings of loss that randomly hit are startling — especially in their immediacy. It’s not an abstract thing. Sometimes it’s as though I’ve just come out of the vet’s office, having watched her go.
I got Sandy at a time when I had very little hope in my life. I was still waiting for my disability hearing, having been turned down twice already. My mom was helping me get by.
In retrospect, it was a financially terrible idea to get a pet, but my mom was supportive — monetarily and emotionally. I think she was worried about me and knew some companionship would do me good.
And it did. Having something that needed and loved me so much really did make a difference, though I couldn’t quite tell you how.
I think one of the worst things about losing a pet is the regret. You can’t help but think about all the times you pushed them off when you could have spent time with them.
But overall I know I gave Sandy a very happy life. I rescued her from the Humane Society, and I was around far more than the average owner. And I know that I did the responsible thing and didn’t keep her around, in pain, for my own benefit.
Having Patches around is a comfort. While she’s not as loving as Sandy was, she’s definitely stepped up her game in that respect. All of that said… I want my cat back.
Since that doesn’t seem to be happening, here are some pictures that I remember her by. Here’s some shots of the fuzz-butt herself.