05/12/17

I keep thinking about Roxy. I keep thinking about her all the time.

I keep thinking about the moment I found her in the middle of the road. My baby. My poor baby. Gone. My precious Roxy, now just a nuisance, strewn across the road, and no one cares, just to not dirty their shoes. I've picked up my baby many times. Warm, full of life, moving, curious. Now just cold, stiff, pressed into an unnatural shape, lifeless, with pieces in the wrong place.

I keep thinking about the moment we buried her. My baby. My poor baby. At least now she can rest. There's nothing nice about the moment. My cat, only a few hours ago, so curious and rambunctious, always ready to play. Now, I lay her to rest. Put away in a hasty hole forever, not nearly deep or wide enough to contain all that she was. But I guess that's why now she goes in and never more out. Because she's already left. And that's why there's no comfort or joy in being there. Just a reminder of her who's no more.

I keep thinking of what must have happened that night, that morning when she passed. I can't help feeling it's partially my fault. If only I didn't go out that night. If only I left my mom's bedroom door open before I left, so she could have had someone to sleep next to. If only I locked the door tight so she didn't wander off. If only I closed the gate a few days before. I wonder if I was the reason she tried crossing the road, on her way home after hearing me call out to her. I wonder when it would have been. While I was at the beach? When I got back home? While I was asleep? When I was outside looking for her in the late morning? Would she still be here if I didn't sleep in a little longer? These are the useless thoughts that fill my days and nights. Useless wanderings that can't bring her back.

I don't like being home, because it reminds me of her. I don't like driving, because every time I go or return, I see that hill where she lay cold. I consciously avoid it, right next to the once happy home. There's no Roxy to be ignored by when I leave and say bye. There's no one to surprise me with a hello when I open my car door. The door creaks open, but no one's there when I look down; just the wind making its way through the quiet corridors of the house. There's no Roxy to wake me up, ready to eat or play or be let out. There's no Roxy to force me into an awkward pose as she sleeps on my bed at night.

I know she's gone. I know that she had her short time, and as unfortunate as it was, it came to an end. I know that she was a good cat, made good and held by God til the end. I know that she loved me and the rest of us, even though our faults, because we loved her. And even though I don't want to , I know that I'll her think about her less as time goes on, because life goes on.

I just miss my baby,

Roxy.