Shakespeare claimed it when I bought it. When he passed away, it became Penney's chair. After she left, Rascal took over.
I've just come off another crying jag. It got to 5 and I was working on a Christmas project. I set it down and started to stand to go into the kitchen to feed the cats.
For 23 years, there has been a cat in this house. For 8 years, there has been a stripey cat sitting in the window of the living room at 4:15 when I got home from work. She quit doing that in May. That was a signal Rascal was not well.
I have tried listening to music. When Rascal died, I played Old Blind Dogs that evening. Now, the music feels like it's covering up the quiet.
I took a 2 1/2 hour nap this afternoon. I cried myself to sleep because there was not the warmth and purring of a cat. I can hear Rascal. I can hear Shakespeare. I can almost see Penney and Half-Pint in the spots where they used to be and I expect to see Betsy in the kitchen looking for me, waiting for another can of cat food to be opened.
There were times when the house was quiet like it is now. After a meal, everyone would settle down and sleep. There would be activity at 9 and Carole and I would find our attention divided by 5 cats. But that too would settle down and everyone would sleep. This is a wholly different kind of quiet. The only thing here is me and my sobs when the grief overtakes me.
I need to eat, but there is nothing I care to eat. I lost 3 pounds after Rascal died. I just didn't feel like it. For all the pots and pans and dirty dishes, the kitchen is empty. I don't want to be there.
I am trying to keep myself active. Work will help in that I have things I have to get done this week. I have done a great deal on this Christmas present today. And I know the feeling that my world is crashing in on me is just that, a feeling.
Beverage: English Breakfast tea