I need the sky to be grey and angry looking. I want the wind to blow and rain to fall. But it’s blue as far as I can see.
I don’t want to hear the kids at the end of the block playing in the cul-de-sac. But they’re laughing and screaming at one another, having fun.
I want the trees to be bare like they’re supposed to be in the winter, and not green with signs of spring already.
I’m not in the right frame of mind for blooming and regrowth. Sprouting and budding.
I thought it might be good to bury my head in the pillows until about noon, but knew that was never going to happen. And once I’m awake, the last thing I want to do is lay there and think. Not today. Especially today.
I headed for the bathroom acknowledging my numb around the edges self, knowing that I wouldn’t see Blackitty, and wondering whether my ugly, red, puffy eyes could actually squeeze out more tears. They felt like they wanted to. And right when I could feel the wave of grief begin to wash over me, the door nudged forward and my dog’s big golden head and soft brown eyes pushed into the space, tentatively, seeking permission. Her cold wet nose bumped against my knee and I could hear the thump of her tail against the vanity as I scratched her head to say thank you for continuing Blackitty’s routine. 
So amazing.
The poor Yack Star has been howling since last night. It isn’t continuous. It comes and goes, and we can hear her move from one place in the house to another. Searching.
Last night, she seemed to want some comfort, but she’s never been a lap cat, so she’s struggling to figure out how to do it. As we were mindlessly flipping channels, she got up on the couch, positioned herself onto one of the back pillows, settled in between us and went to sleep. Clearly she is lonely and already missing her companion of 10 years.
She waited by the back door this morning to go out. Blackitty and she did this every morning just to smell the air, walk around the side of the house to sniff the bushes, sit for a few moments and then come back in. It was just one of their rituals. But today she didn’t go out when I opened the back door. And when I went to the front, she followed me and seemed to want to go out that one instead, hesitantly. I went out with her, watching. She stood looking back at me, yowled a few times and then went back to the door, wanting in.
I can hear her downstairs right now. I wish I could help her.
In a few days, the vet will call and I will have to go and pick up Blackitty’s ashes. Having filled the backyards of my life with animals we’ve lost, I didn’t exactly plan this, but it was offered, and I no longer have a backyard. It seemed just right for a cat who was afraid to be anywhere but in the house.
Thank you so much to all of you who took the time to send your lovely thoughts and warm words. It was a special part of my morning, and I am very, very grateful to you all.
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