It's been a month since our cat, Bobbie, died. I still miss her every day.
Thankfully, I'm not a blubbering mess like I was that first week, but her lack of presence is still felt.
Especially in the mornings.
Two mornings this week (so far), we were late. (The other morning, the girls spent at my parents' house so that doesn't count.)
I remember when I used to bitch about Bobbie waking me up too early or with a scratch sometimes. What I wouldn't give to have a scratch on my nose again! From her. (Still not ready to consider a new pet yet; for both practical and emotional reasons.)
When Riley comes back from my parents' house, she's covered in their cat's hair and it just makes my heart ache. I think she spends so much time with Max because she misses Bobbie terribly, too.
Neither of the girls really like to talk about it. What's to talk about? She was a cat, she loved us, we loved her, and she's dead now.
So why am I going on about it here?
I don't know. I just needed to commemorate the milestone of somehow making it through the past month without her.
I think, after 21 years, it will probably take at least 21 weeks - if not longer - to get used to this.