Healing

A moment ago, I was scrolling down through the posts I've written the last few days. As I stared at the pictures of Harley, something wonderful happened--I laughed. How can I look at that picture of him in my dirty laundry and not laugh? He was a funny boy--the term "purrvert" definitely applied. He was playful, exasperating, hilarious, and naughty. I have so many wonderful memories.

So yes, there is healing. I haven't cried as much in the last few days, and I definitely feel stronger. My body is tired, though. I ran maybe one-quarter of a mile all total at run club this morning (back to the foam roller I go), and I had at least a two-hour nap this afternoon. It was glorious.

In all of the grieving and sadness, I've had a constant source of joy--Millennium Joy, of course. My sweet girl has been following me around. Partly because she's confused by the loss of her fur-sibling, and partly, I know, because she knows I need to be comforted. We napped together this afternoon, and she has stuck close to me when I am at home.

Don't ever believe, for one minute, that animals are without souls, or feelings.

Life moves forward. I'm still sad, but each day brings a little more strength, a little more normalcy. The new normal is that I'm once again a one-cat woman. That will change when I have my own place again. I can see myself taking in a pair of littermates.

For now, I cuddle with my sweet girl, and appreciate every moment I have with her.

Sharing the Sweet Spot in my Stockton apartment.

Obviously, the tails were staged by me. But they didn't mind.

"Yeah, he's a pain in the furbutt, but he's good for cuddles and stuff."