Monday, June 10, 2013


I find myself particularly missing Bonnie today. The song Bright Eyes from Watership Down haunts me and I keep seeing in my mind that video of her trying so hard to please me with the box in the bedroom. If it wasn't sinking in deeply before just what's bled out of my life forever with her passing, it's beginning to today. It's like a leaf, spiraling down, has finally landed on the surface of a pond, sending out its sad little ripples in silence.

I think part of it is that it's really been a month now, and it's increasingly at night that it tells. For half my life I've had one cat or another follow me to bed and take her place on the pillow beside me; first Jenny, and after she passed, Bonnie took her place. I'm not sure how long that took but I'm pretty sure even before Jenny died, Bonnie had her place on the bed, somewhere. Max, even Twinkle had their places, though they weren't so insistent about being there, and they didn't follow me to bed as faithfully as Bonnie.

But Seth and Ally... not much. Ally has drifted in a few times as stayed for a bit, but she leaves pretty quickly. Seth seems to think he has no place there, and it saddens me. For years, more often than not, when I woke up, I could reach for Bonnie, and she'd be there. Now she's not, and no one's filing the gap. Despite living with me for a year and a half, Ally is still completely disinclined to take a place on one of the chairs beside me. I knew I had it good with Bonnie, really good, but I always hoped when the time came the others would grow into the space left by her absence. Maybe they will, but right now, it's really not happening.

Seth will sit with me. Ally likes me, I think; she shows it mostly by rubbing against me; something none of the other cats I've ever had was ever into at all. She shows it in her own way, I guess. I can't help wanting it shown in ways I'm familiar with, I guess.

Part of me wants to the take the song Bright Eyes and create a production of photos and videos, mostly of Bonnie, but also of Max and Twinkle and what little I have of Jenny. But I know that would just gut me. As lovely as it might be, it would be deeply lonely and like worrying a sore in my mouth. Wish I hadn't remembered the song today.

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