It's so quiet around here without Little Boy.
He was always there in the morning, waiting at the door for his breakfast, scolding me for taking so long to get to it. Throughout the day, he was a constant presence, talkative, always up for a walk down the stairs with me to the garden. It's hard not to keep seeing his little face peering through the windows, or out from under the benches, or from atop the table out on the deck.
Our animals become such a part of our lives, such a fixture, that when they leave us, we're totally bereft. We find ourselves looking for them, eyes automatically focussing on the spots where they used to hang out, ears waiting for the sound of a meow or bark (or chirp, or bubbles from the goldfish).
Little Boy had a peaceful end last Saturday afternoon. It was time.
The vet came to the house, and she looked after him under his lemon tree. It was the most beautful sunny day with a good breeze carrying scents of garden, lawn, and sea, birds all about, nature happening.
I've written before about those black birds. About an hour before the vet came, they left the lawn where they usually forage about, and sat up on the supports for the clothesline, quiet, looking down on Little Boy where he lay under his tree, sleeping. They stayed there until we tended to LB, and after we had buried him in a lovely part of the garden that he always enjoyed, they came back to sit on the supports again, looking down at the garden where he had been.
I think all creatures share a universal spirit, a collective consciousness, if you will. My other cat, Betsy, was also affected by what happened to Little Boy. The last couple of days, I've seen her sitting in a spot she has never visited before, one with a view of where LB is lying. She just sits there and looks, watches, for about an hour, then returns to her usual places.
Grief and loss sit with us. We never just 'get over it'. One cries as many tears as one needs to, feels as much hurt and pain as is needed, and finds a special place within to store the memories, like treasures.
Painful ones, but treasures all the same.