Tomorrow, July 7th, will be three years since my amazing cat Balthazar (“Zar”) died. Here’s something I wrote in my journal a few days before I lost him:
So, I’m crying, and talking to Zar about how much he’s meant to me and how much I love him, and I’m petting him and kissing his soft grey head, and then I’m sobbing some more and giving him treats and blowing my nose a lot. Typical stuff, I guess. I don’t know. It’s all new for me. He’s been with me almost fourteen years, and I guess I thought he was immortal.
Is it weird that July 7th still hits me like a punch to the gut? Is it strange that I still miss him him and tear up when I think about him? Maybe it is, but I don’t care. Here’s my boy:
But in July, my home is also a prime example of the Circle of Life. July 4th is Cairo’s birthday — or as near as his foster mom and I could figure. This year, my little mama’s boy turned all of four years old. He’s still a pile of purring, cuddly claws and fur, and although he’ll never replace Zar, I love the him with all my heart. (Even when he’s crying in the middle of the night because he wants to play.)
After a few years of discussions and research, we’ve decided to do something drastic. We’ve decided to grow our family a teeny-tiny bit — exactly the size of one kitten.
It’s time for Cairo to get a little sister or brother. :)
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