I spent some time today thinking about my special kitty friend of yore today in honor of Lucie Memorial Day.
I thought about how soft he was, especially right at the base of his ears. I thought about how he always found the cool spots to lay in during the summer in the days before I had air conditioning. I thought about how fast he was at catching the fleece wand, and how disinterested he was in any game of chase or fetch.
I remembered our nightly ritual: I would climb up to the loft bed and lay down and wait to hear the clinking of the dry food in the bowl in the kitchen as Lucie had a kibble nightcap before coming to mew at the bottom of the ladder to say that, although he couldn't climb the ladder himself, he was ready be carried up to sped the night with me. I remembered how heavy he was when he would lay on my feet, and how warm.
I remembered his low, cranky mew of complaint when his dish was empty or you weren't getting the food fast enough for him. I thought about how he sat with me during some very sad times. And then I remembered
his sad time and how I snuggled him in the sunny spot in the window and he looked out on the fire escape on the morning he passed, and how tired he seemed.
And I thought about how, even though I was sad to not have him with me anymore, the real, intense sadness when he first passed and in the months that followed had faded over time and what was left was so many happy memories and the awareness of how lucky I was to have been his friend and how knowing Lucie changed my life in such a wonderful way.
And then I pet Tiggy, Pickles and Ginger, and my heart grew a tiny bit larger so that I could love them just a little bit more in honor of Lucie.
