May 09, 2009

9:29 a.m.

Sad

Linus hasn't returned. Coyotes and Fisher Cats and miles of woods aside, I know it's possible he could come walking back at any time. Nevertheless we're all in a state of shock. Linus was (is) the World's Best Cat. You could pick him up any old way. He survived being left in the cellar of a for-sale house for a week before someone found him and took him to the humane society. He could transport into an alternate universe and disappear somewhere in the house for hours and then reappear at your elbow, saying, "What?" He loved being Cargo Kitty - going around slung over someone's shoulder. He was mellow, he was friendly to all (except the other, strange orange cat he had to live with after his people got married). Going outside was the best thing he ever was allowed to do. He got more exercise, he stayed mainly in the back yard. There was plenty to do. A barn to creep around in, bird feeders to stalk. He'd hang around when I hung laundry out to dry. He'd stand up on his hind legs and put his paws on my leg, begging like a dog. He loved to eat pork. He loved belly rubs. He loved chattering to himself when he saw something he'd like to chase.

I look out the window at the gray day, listening to the birds singing away, wondering when it will rain. Is it futile to keep looking back in the woods, flicking ticks and waving gnats away?

Rose says she won't get another cat. They still have two; she couldn't bear to lose another to the woods, and there will be a parrot soon anyway. Somehow this makes me more inclined to get a kitty when (she said affirmingly) I move into my House. I'm so sad and stunned to think there might be no more Linus. I just can't get my mind around it.