In an update to this post, and then this one, and finally this one, CJ has gone to live with some friends in Glasgow. She is not hunting rabbits in the country. She’s in Glasgow. I know and trust the people she’s with. I am now the cat’s Auntie.
Dad delivered her on Saturday, taking along her favourite blanket. I was not upset when she left, as I’d said goodbye many times before the day arrived. It was hard to believe she was actually gone. We opened all the doors and windows. Because we could.
The flat seemed bigger. And empty. So we put our sunglasses on and left. Pulled out of our funk by friends and food and beer.
I felt fragile, but happy, too. Happy that she got such a sunny day for her new start. That she was on her way to cuddles from non-allergic people. I was also happy that I would no longer be confronted with Sarge’s actually bloody nose. Although, after this morning when I blew my own nose too hard, and showed him, I can no longer complain.
‘Should I be worried?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s just sympathy snot.’
Last night, I reclaimed my reading chair. The one that CJ used to sleep on. I felt slightly guilty, but I read half a book. My windows are open, people can come in the front door without playing defence first. We called it Catch the Cat.
I don’t have to feel bad about keeping CJ out of the bedroom. And even worse when she zoomed in anyway. I don’t have to wave smelly packets of food to coax her out again. I can have cheesecake for breakfast, because she isn’t here with the disdainful cat-face that said, ‘Don’t you have a wedding dress to fit into?’
My mother asked me if I missed CJ. I do, but I love living in peace and fresh air with Sarge, his nose and our books.
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