Remember {Five Minute Friday}

It’s {Five Minute Friday}, and today’s topic is: Remember…

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Dusty paws beside me, demanding I spread the green chenille blanket out from under my leg so she can have some of her own. Then she curls up, flips over on her back, and begins to purr.

I stroke her long black fur, noticing that her winter ruff is coming in. Soon, she’ll look double her petite 8 pounds.

Her purr crescendos as I scratch under her neck. She is sublimely happy in this moment. She has no sense of the past.

She has no idea that right now, I remember another black cat, this one a runty kitten with sea urchin spiky fur, too young to have any undercoat, just ridiculous black spines jutting far beyond an impossibly tiny body.

Daniel was angry that I’d brought home a third cat (“What on earth did you…“) for less than two full seconds (“oh, isn’t she cuuuuuute!“) She fell asleep on his feet as he did dishes that evening. She fell asleep on his left calf has he knelt for prayer that night.

Meeka was our nursemaid. She sensed need before we knew ourselves. When children cried in time-out, Meeka was here to comfort. When adults came home beaten down by parent-teacher conferences, Meeka was here to soothe.

Then came the gut-wrenching day that Meeka was not here. She’d lived a full life in her fourteen years, and we knew she was ill. I’d dreaded the day I would find her body.

Finding nothing was far, far worse.