Monday, April 23, 2012

It's Been A Month . . .

It's exactly one month since I said good-bye to Betsey and Ross.

I've gotten to the point where I can now mostly think or talk about them without crying or being sad, but every so often the pain is still raw.

Don't misunderstand me, I know I made the right decision, but I miss them.

  • I miss them hopping up on the dining room table in an attempt to share my dinner.
  • I miss Betsey nuzzling my neck and purring as I fall asleep.
  • I miss Ross greeting me at the door each night.
  • I miss the way they'd warm up my bed each night and give me the stink eye each morning when the alarm went off.
  • I miss them shedding on everything and never being able to get their hair off my clothes.
  • I miss the mess they'd make with their food on my bedroom floor.
  • I miss finding Ross hiding in my bedroom closet or under the bathroom sink.
  • I miss Betsey "talking" all night long.
  • I miss the way they would groom each other, protect each other, and curl up into each other to sleep.
  • I miss Betsey "helping" me work by laying across my left arm while I typed on my computer and "reading" every word I wrote.
  • I miss waking up in the morning to find all my lower kitchen cabinets wide open because Ross has opened them during the night.
  • I miss them talking to me while I am in the shower, where they knew they had a captive audience.
  • I miss Ross's rough and tumble attitude. In 16 years, I never saw him lose his cool and calm demeanor. He even purred when he saw me coming with the insulin needle.
  • I miss the way Betsey would suddenly be under foot before I had a can of tuna completely open, even if when I pulled it out of the cabinet she was three rooms away.
  • I miss the how they would scratch at a closed door when I was on the other side because they thought I was having fun without them.
  • I miss looking over at the wing-back chair and seeing Betsey curled up on it.
  • I miss pulling out a chair at the dining table only to find Betsey or Ross curled up on it and giving me the "do you mind? I'm sitting here" look.
  • I miss walking into the kitchen and finding Ross on the counter licking drops of water out of the faucet. I guess I'm just lucky he never figured out how to turn it on.
I guess I'm just trying to say I miss them a lot. I keep thinking I'm not going to miss them so much. People keep telling me it'll go away when I get new cats to replace them. I've actually looked at some cats online at the local shelters and considered adopting a cat a friend was giving away because her new home wouldn't allow her cat. But I'm just not ready. Maybe one day, but I don't see it happening any time soon.


  1. Until you can remove the side bar notation of them you will never be ready... I am glad to see you popped up... and glad you didn't adopt the kitty that needed a home. Maybe that sounds harsh, but I agree that you're not ready. You had awesome kitty children... they will take some time to get over. Don't rush it. *hugs*

  2. There will always be that twinge of sadness, but remember they are everywhere with you now.

  3. I have not been keeping up, I had no idea and I am so sorry for your loss. You gave them such a great life and forever home. That is true, but the pain is tough to navigate; time does help. I send you my every wish for peace.


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