For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.
For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.
For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.
For he will not do destruction, if he is well-fed, neither will he spit
without provocation.
For he purrs in thankfulness, when God tells him he's a good Cat.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
For every house is incomplete without him and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.

—from "For I will consider my cat, Joffrey", from the Jubilate Agno, by Christoper Smart

I woke up this morning and thought, today is my third day without Kallisti in my life.

I don't know how long it'll take to stop keeping track of the days, weeks, and months. It's still very strange to not have a little cat trying to get me out of bed in the morning. Lili and Juniper are more "snuggle till she decides to get up on her own" sorts of cats, and tend to let me sleep as long as I want.

But I'm starting to recover from my grief some. I found myself laughing a little yesterday, and I find myself able to think about things that aren't my cat, now. Well, thinking about my dead cat seems to have been temporarily replaced by obsessively thinking about my two live cats. I bought toys for Lili online today, something I've never done before.

It's very strange...the last time I was without Kallisti was when I was 19. I'd had him my entire adult life--in fact, adopting him was the first truly adult act I ever took on my own. I still look for him when I get home, and I get worried when I see only two instead of three tails when I look through the window in the back door when I arrive home.

The last time I was without him, I was living at Bonsai Oaks. I was a junior in college. I hadn't yet seriously thought about moving to Seattle. So much of my growing up was done with him around, I am such a different person, now. Who will i be when I have lived without him for the same amount of time I lived with him?

He was the first creature who needed me and only me, for whom nobody else would do.

The house is still too quiet. Far too quiet.

I spent much of the day Saturday and some of Sunday crying. I wrote feverishly, both online and offline, trying to translate my huge gaping sorrow into something that I could get a grasp on.

The denizens of the Big White House came over and brought flowers, a card, a quiche, and a basket full of cut-up fruit and vegetables. I was grateful, because i'd completely forgotten to eat, and I couldn't deal with the idea of either cooking or going out to get something to eat. [Midwestern training comes through again.] I got a couple of calls from people who had heard and wanted to give me their condolences. I rented a movie for something to keep my brain busy and fill the empty hours until nightfall.

Sunday was easier than Saturday. Not by much, but it was easier. I managed to break out of my paralysis to do some work, and that helped. I also saw Chris, who was the only human I really wanted to see that day.

I learned things like too much crying will give you a headache that nothing can make go away.

And that delivering bad news into answering machines is something I'm not sure I can do ever again.

And that grief has its own schedule that no "shoulds" or "oughts" can countermand.

I cleaned on Sunday.

I changed the sheets, did a quick wash of the bathroom, went to the grocery store...

...and scrubbed the floor.

See, Kallisti, for almost the last year of his life, was throwing up no less than five times a week. sometimes, he'd throw up after every meal for a couple of weeks. Usually, it was undigested food, but sometimes for variety he'd throw up water. I couldn't keep the floors clean, and after a while I stopped trying.

And in his last weeks, not only was he vomiting everywhere, but he'd abandoned peeing in the litter box for peeing on the rugs around the house. So up those went. (then he started peeing on the wires under the workbench. But that's another story.)

The floors were a tangible reminder of his presence, so I was reluctant to wash the floors. Unfortunately, Sunday was the only good day for it, and I really wanted them clean.

So after a trip to Ikea to pick up new throw rugs (and two new area rugs) I washed and scrubbed the floor. It's clean like it hasn't been for months. And Juniper loves the new throw rugs and wandered from rug to rug, lying on them all (to see which one's the most comfortable, I guess).

I felt sort of like I was washing away the last of him, but I really wasn't—I was washing away the remanants of his illness, the cancer that took him from me. When I thought of that I scrubbed the dried vomit spots extra hard.

And I printed out that last picture of Kallisti and stuck it in a frame I had around. I set the frame on the entertainment center downstairs, and hung his collar on the corner of it. It makes me happy and sad at the same time to see it.

I miss my kittycat.

I've been overwhelmed with emails and responses expressing sympathy. I'm going to reply to everyone, but it might take me a while, especially since I'm going down to Sacramento this weekend.

But thank you. Thank you so much. Your kind emails and calls made me cry but they also helped me remember that other people are out there, that I am not the first nor the last to bear this sorrow.

Thank you.

Floating on a summer memory, I can see you in my mind
Knowing it goes on forever, far beyond us, far behind

Where you are, do you know, I think of you
Where you are, do you know? I hope you do.
[October Project, "Where You Are"]

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