Last month, our dear tabby boy Toulouse passed away after suffering from cancer of the jaw for nearly three months. He was 14 years old. He was my baby, my little tiger, the cuddliest cat I've ever known. He loved snuggling & head-bonking & kisses, & he slept curled up in the crook of my left arm more nights than not.
He died a little over a year after our beautiful girl cat Melusine, the aloof & elegant Maine Coon, passed away after 16 years with us.
It's weird not having a cat in the house. Every time I open the house door, I expect to be greeting by one or two little furry faces. Every time I open a closet door, I expect to have to shoo away cat paws who want to get into the closet & nestle in among my clothes. There's no warm lump of cat at my feet in the bed, & there's no sound of little claws tapping on the hardwood floors around the house.
My husband & I have talked, & yes, we will get cats again. We want to do some home improvements first, plus we'll be out of town & have to plan around that. In the meantime, the house feels strangely empty.
What I'm wearing: Black T-shirt, Target | Black, brown, & white Ikat striped knit skirt, Kohl's | Black tights, Calvin Klein | Silver-grey wedge heels, Anne Klein | Black & cream cat-print scarf, gift from my husband | Pewter key earrings, made by me