I’m mostly, hour to hour anyway, okay-ish, now… it’s just when things get really quiet, like when I try to sleep at night, that I fall apart. And you know, I just let myself crumble. I know I’ll fall asleep and I know I’ll feel better when I wake up, so I just let it happen. I think it needs to.
This won’t be a long or eloquent post, but I wanted to come by to tell you that a new cat, Lucy, is coming to visit me tomorrow… and if she and I are a good match, she’ll be my cat. She’s three or four years old, and a brown tabby, but without the white that Elsie P had. I won’t put up a picture until she’s definitely my cat. The one worry about Lucy (who I’ve taken to calling Lucy Belle, or Lucy B.) is that she is not declawed. She needs to learn to scratch a post. Mom and I will get her a post tomorrow and I’ll work like crazy with her to teach her to scratch it.
My feelings on Lucy B’s arrival? Mostly good, with a twinge of sadness. I miss Elsie and her little kitty quirks. I know that I need Lucy to help me heal from Elsie’s passing on. I hope I don’t try and compare her to Els, because that wouldn’t be right or fair. I hope I’m so overcome with the joy of a kitty and her sweetness that it won’t occur to me to compare.
I am worrying that I won’t love Lucy right off the bat. My love is a little sore, right now, as you might be able to imagine. My good friend M gave me great advice: You don’t have to love her right away. You have to keep her alive and be nice to her, and the love will come. I thought that was smart thinking.
Anyway, if you could keep in your thoughts and prayers Lucy B and her potentially dangerous toes (for the record, she doesn’t ever scratch people! We’re just worried about my brand new couch), I’d appreciate it. Oh, and my heart, if you don’t mind.