It’s 6am and I’m downstairs, on the couch with a cup of coffee — just like every morning. Some quiet and calm before the day starts. But you’re not here. You’re not on my lap, or sitting next to me. It doesn’t feel right. This was our time. Our morning ritual every day.
I miss you.
Everywhere I look in this house I see you: jumping on the washing machine or the counter, looking into the empty fish tank wistfully, lying on the stairs to greet us when we got home from work, cuddling with me in the same position every night in bed, sitting between my keyboard and the computer screen like the queen that you were, soaking up the winter sun on the floor (or the toilet seat!).
I miss your meows.
Remember when I used to sing when I worked from home? You’d meow like crazy every time. I still don’t know if you were singing along with me, or begging me to stop.
We called you our “little lion” because you were the queen of this castle in every sense. Whatever you wanted, you got — even if that meant lying awkwardly on some body part or wanting to play, even though you had the sharpest claws I’ve ever seen!
When you came to live with us, you were eight years old. You were always a sensitive soul; quiet and serious most of the time, which is why I felt such a strong bond to you. But… little did we know, that “monkey”, Jinx, would bring out this crazy, unpredictable child-like spirit in you. She really kept you on your toes all those years and it was the most magical thing seeing the two of you acting like loving sisters.
In all those 10 years, I think I can only remember twice I wanted to give you the hiding of your life (and I don’t think we ever did) — cats will be cats, and birds you did love. But you never brought in mice or any other four-legged present. THANK YOU!!!!
The highlight of my week was often just spending a cozy night with our little family, watching some ridiculous reality show, or the latest series. That to me was heaven.
I wonder what you’d say to me if you could have talked. There was always so much going on behind those blue eyes of yours; I wonder what you were thinking.
Sitting here, with the promise of rain outside, I feel lost. My heart breaks because I know this is the exact moment you’d seek out my lap for warmth. It sounds so dumb, but I often just think you’re sitting with me in spirit. It helps.
I’ll always treasure those last few weeks we had together.
The rollercoaster of emotions, that gave us extra time with you. Those last few days where you showed such strength, making the effort to individually sit with each of us to say goodbye (when you’d distanced yourself the two weeks before). I’ll never forget you climbing onto my lap, putting your face right in front of mine, and gazing into my eyes. That was you saying it was okay. You were ready to go. We listened, but it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.
Saying goodbye to a part of me. Saying goodbye to my friend. Saying goodbye to my child.
You taught me so much about life. You taught me that just being and doing nothing is everything. You taught me that just because there wasn’t a human baby in the picture, didn’t mean that there wasn’t a complete family under one roof. There was. All this time, there was a Chisnall family.
You were never just a pet. You were a part of us and it’s going to take a very long time to not feel like someone’s reached into my body and ripped out a piece of my heart. The only two things keeping me going some days is believing that I’ll see you again and that you’ll visit me in my dreams.
I know you’re soaking up the sun somewhere happy and that you’re at peace.
I want to do something to remember you by, I just don’t know what yet.
I love you forever, special girl.
Sassy. Sassinator. Sassilina. Toffee. Little lion. Rowy. Hassy. Blue-eyed girl. Queen Sass.