One year ago I stopped being (and cat) and one year ago I vowed I would never stop being (and cat).
I still expect her to curl up in front of my face at night and to insinuate herself between me and the keyboard when I’m online.
I wait for her to wander up the back of the couch and tap me with a paw until I lean back so she can become Shoulder Kitteh of Doom (and helpful typing skills).
I listen for the bitchy maos that means she’s locked herself in the closet, or had enough of the dogs being dogs, or that she is in dire need of shrimps. (Mostly shrimps.)
I walk down the isle in the store and notice when her favorite flavors of canned food are on sale.
I listen for her at night, snoring her purr-snores that mean she’s at peace with the world.
And I will never, ever, stop being (and cat).