(In honour of one year without a dear furry friend.)
Last night ghost cat passed through the living room. My husband felt the air around his ankles alter just enough to accommodate the passing of a mid sized feline, just as he’d felt every night for fourteen years until a year ago.
I read an article on pet grief that classified animals as spiritual and claimed they stayed with us for a full year after death. I know better than to believe everything that I read on the Internet. He was not a particularly smart cat and I cannot see him possessing any exceptional powers other than those of love and loyalty.
Still, I see his white presence vanish around corners, like vapour, and I hear his noisy cry at times. The other night my husband heard it too. Is this a phenomenon of grief or is Ghost Cat staying for a year?
If you’re staying, I want to apologise for my annoyance on that last day when you tracked crap through the house, for making you spend those last few hours outside when you wanted to sit in a window inside, for crying in front of you as you drew your last.
I don’t know where you’re spending the afterlife, but I hope you’ve found your two friends and once again you’re the three musketeers. Most of all, I look at the cat that’s been left behind and realise how many times I’ve said goodbye, that I’ll have to do it one more time and I don’t think I can do it again, so Ghost Cat please jump upon my bed, vanish into cupboards, leave fur upon the curtains until I can face the days without you, just so I know when the years rush by and I say goodbye again I’ll know she’ll haunt me too until I face the world bravely on my own. Ghost Cat, you’ll never know how much life you took up when an agoraphobic’s world is so small. Thank you.