I almost bought a puppy. As in put-her-on-hold-at-the-pound almost… planned her name and everything I needed for her.
I know… I know…
It is so hard. I miss my little princess so badly 😦
It isn’t about replacing Leela. It’s all about that void. That ache.
A part of me is just screaming ‘Fill the void! Fill it with something cute and tiny and fluffy and dependant on you!’
I know it isn’t the answer. I wanted a puppy prior to losing Leela and now it’s so hard to fight that feeling. But I’m going to… because now isn’t the time.
Leela was my baby princess. She was our first cat. She was so attached to me (little anxious meow-meow-meow-face) and we knew her straight from her Mummas belly.
Her existence was so deeply part of my daily life. Her shape at the door. The way she would clean her teeth with my toenails (LOL!). Her persistent meow. The way she would find me – no matter what room I was in – and purr at the window, willing for me to cuddle her… which I would.
I keep expecting her at the door. Then I get a flash of her dead body in my minds eye and it hurts all over again.
I look at the photos… of her puddying various items. Of her sitting on my bump when I was pregnant with Cam. I remember how she used to clean Little Man and Patchamuckins (who is also gone… went missing when I was 12 weeks pregnant :() and how finicky she was.
Oh, how I miss her. I wanted her to grow up with Cameron and to be one of those ridiculously old cats who drools and your children remember when they’re adults.
But instead I have the reality of my husband finding her lifeless on the road. She looked like she was sleeping aside from the fact that she had a wound on her head. It was dry under her body but had lightly rained in the morning so she left a Leela outline on the bitumen.
I hate that my final memories of her involve death… that I saw her that way… with blood in her tiny nostrils and her body all stiff. I hate that I had to hear that thud of a shovel into the soil as Mike dug a tiny Leela-sized grave and I searched frantically for a little girl blanket to wrap her in – driven by that Mumma instinct to protect her.
I know those things are raw and those difficult memories will change and adapt and one day I’ll just remember the cute kitty cat quirks she had… but for now I miss her and I want to pretend it was all a bad dream and that I’ll hear her meow in a minute.