One week ago, my lifelong friend and pet left us to cross over the rainbow bridge. I remember being 6 and having just lost a small kitten to an illness at the pound. We went to go visit my parents friends and meet a new litter that when I was ready, we could take one home. The black and white one was taken. A little lofty orange kitten, who did not want to be held, soon became my Happy. Happy was not named because of his incredibly pleasant attitude, but because I had been denied naming my cousin such and we had a strict alphabetical policy to follow. His namesake was the dwarf from Snow White.
He had a very full life, beginning with a crazy family, a love for hunting, and jumping out a second story window within the first year. He has moved across the country 3 times, hunted everything that moved or might have potentially, faced off with an evil doppelganger, and survived a house fire. His life was long and full. I know mine was with him. I always had a friend, pillow, or surprising story to tell the next day.
Now he is no longer with us life is quieter. I wake up without a furry friend that had crawled into my arms as I slept each morning. I can now sleep near the edge of the bed. As a result, I really haven’t slept at all. I don’t have an automatic lap warmer whenever, I sit down. I don’t hear my partner asking if they can pass out the 5 cat treat of the hour. Our apartment is free of litter boxes, scratching boards, and toys scattered around. I don’t have to be vigilant in putting any beverage down and walking away is going to be shattered to the ground. Anyone will be able to approach me while sick cause no one will be screaming them away. We won’t be keeping tabs on a phantom mouse. Happy was so much of my life and heart for so long it is going to take along time before I can’t reach any kind of feeling that this could now be my new normal, nine lives less.