But I seem to take things a lot harder than I used to do.
Well, the waif was a mess wouldn't come out of Jenna's room for over a month. She was thrilled, finally a cat to cuddle with her and hang with her. After a few weeks, I let her name him. She called him Percy Jackson after the main character in her favorite book series. And that's what we called him, Percy Jackson, the whole name, no nickname. And he filled out and cleaned up and he was sleek and smooth and beautiful and we loved him. He had just come downstairs a week or two ago and had finally made himself at home. And he was funny, long, lean and lanky and remarkably clumsy for a cat.
I went to the vets this morning for the dogs vaccinations. I was checking out the bulletin board, still have not given up hope that someone has found Sam, and there was a post-it. It read, "lost cat, black and white male, Waquoit, Betty". And I knew. I didn't want to call but for Sam's sake, I did. And she lives just around the corner and came to get him. And so, Percy Jackson is gone now too.
I can't believe how hard I am taking it. I am a mess. Jenny Wren is devastated. It seemed karmic that a cat like that would show up when I was missing Sam so very much, and now he is gone too.
And there is another small aching hole in my heart.