Paw Print

There's a somewhat-cheesy expression about cats leaving paw prints on our hearts, and of course, I've always found it to be true. I'm approaching two months without Millie, and I still miss her all the time. We're a few weeks shy of what would have been her 16th birthday.

When Millie died, I had the option of ordering a plaster impression of her paw print, so I did that. I figured it would be a nice memento. I was finally able to pick it up today, and as I'd rather expected, when the wonderful receptionist at Sterling Pointe handed it to me and I saw the daintiest little paw print immortalized in plaster, tears rushed to my eyes.

God, I miss her.

Millie had small feet at the end of long, skinny legs. Her paw print is slender. With her collar, it's all I have left of her.

Anyway, it's hitting me hard tonight. In all of the hectic joy of starting a new job, it's easy to forget that it's all very stressful, even though I am enjoying it and know this was a good career move. It's taking my body and brain time to settle in to the new routine and I've found that I'm perhaps a little more prone to moodiness and self-reflection.

A plaster paw print can make me cry.

For now, it's on my desk. At some point, I'll find a new home for it, along with the small print I bought of an angel holding a calico cat (the closest I could get to a torbie, which is what Millie actually was).

In time, I'm sure it won't even hurt so much to think about her.