I have been home from the East Coast for a week now. It was easy not to think very much about the loss of my beautiful Nellie Girl while I was away. I was busy and in new places and the sadness only came over me at night and first thing in the morning. But here, I look for her everywhere. I wait for her to get on the bed in the morning and bite my chin so I'll get up and put canned food in the dish. I look for her in the window as I come up the walk. She was always there. I listen for her extraordinary purr, which was audible from a room away. And mostly I look for her in the big green chair, her most favorite sleeping spot.
My other cats are reorganizing themselves in her absence. Frannie, now the oldest at 4 and the biggest at 14 pounds, is tooting her own weight around. She has a prison mama swagger and is doing her best to intimidate the other two. Sammy, my handsome doofus, could care less and Evie, the little feral girl, steps out of everyone's way. So maybe Frannie's posturing is for me. Or maybe it's how she grieves.
But what I find most odd, most mysterious is that each night one of them sleeps in the green chair.