I started the word processor at my desk, after sitting here for the past hour thinking about what I would write. For some reason it ‘auto-opened’ the following file from last Fall. And it was oddly apropos:
October 23, 2009 -- No matter how you prepare for a loss there is always an element that stings. And when a prepared-for loss is followed by the shock of another on its tail there is a compounding effect: a double gut punch.
This week opened with the familiar feeling of the malaise I’ve had hanging over me for the prior two to three. I woke up in the late morning next to my cat Harvey, a familiar scene. She yawned and stretched as I swung my feet to the floor, grateful that she hadn’t done her normal ‘morning-get-up-get-up-get-up-or-I’ll-walk-on-you-until-you-do’ routine.
Pot of coffee brewed, bacon and eggs consumed, kitchen cleaned top to bottom (a little over caffeinated) I returned to my desk and busied myself in a not-so-normal way. The day flew by and that evening I watched the Phillies win the game at home with Harvey at my side on the couch. A few celebratory beers out at the bar after the game and it was home to bed. As I climbed up the stairs to the bedroom I walked past the cat who was lying on the carpet just inside the front door. “What’s wrong Harv? come on... time for bed.” I climbed into bed and didn’t even notice that she hadn’t followed me.
The next morning I woke up late... very late. Coming down to the office I saw Harvey lying in the middle of the floor... not exactly herself. Her demeanor was off... she wasn’t feeling well. And she didn’t move when I climbed into my chair at my desk.
Harvey slipped away within 48 hours due to a cancerous tumor that had been growing in her chest undetected for an unknown number of months. Losing a pet who has been a constant in your life is never easy. Fast forward eleven months -- we said goodbye to our other cat, Jones, this morning. And it’s still not easy.