| The Éminence grise has left the building |
[Sep. 19th, 2016|10:53 am]
Calyx of the Heavens
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Ad astra, Beltane. (March 1996 - September 16, 2016)
From the stars you came, so to the stars you return, Beltane, my beloved, my kitten, my evil overlord, my grey diva, my first cat, the smartest cat, the best cat. How does one eulogize a bundle of personality like you? But here I am trying. Damn my brain, which incessantly writes even when I don't want it to, which has been writing fragments of this for a year, even when I have stubbornly, superstitiously refused to put the lines down in pixels.
This is long, because what else can the biography of an epic fantasy heroine be?
( length and pixCollapse )
Beltane was the best lesson in how to be an epic heroine of your own story, even if your own story consists of the confines of a small, dark apartment in Delaware, or a railroad apartment in Somerville, or a big echoing Victorian house. Her domain expanded as she aged, as is only right and proper for an evil overlord.
In the aftermath of losing her to congestive heart failure, we're finding just how much a part of our everyday lives Beltane was. I had trouble having cereal for breakfast yesterday, because I expected her to come demand my yogurt. When we were playing videogames last night, I kept looking up to see if she was on her chair, or almost-reaching out to pet her between us on the couch. When we came home from the grocery store, we burst into tears because there was no one to put a grocery bag on the floor for. I almost couldn't cut cheese for a snack for us last night because she wasn't there to stand on her hind legs and pat my leg to beg for cheese. She's not in the kitchen eating her breakfast. She's not sitting in the exact center of the kitchen, making us dance around her and watching us expectantly, hoping for either treats or attention. Her throne in our bedroom is empty, and her steps for the couch are put away, and all her meds are gone, and there is only rarely a cat in the room with us when I look around.
How will we run our lives without our evil overlord, our tiny benevolent dictator, our grey diva? I don't know. All I know is that right now, I can't. |
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crushed
